tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMyra's Misdemeanour

Myra's Misdemeanour

byOtazel©

Myra was as cheerful as usual when she arrived at the offices of Hartley's Discount Stores. There she did the part time office cleaning job that was making it possible for her pay her way through college.

The offices were closed now and she would be on her own, but she was used to that, especially because it allowed her to do her job in her own way without anyone leaning over her shoulder, and that's the way she liked it. She would always do her work properly anyway, if only because the job was essential to her student finances. She never skimped or rushed, and even, on the odd occasions when she wanted to finish early, discreetly recruited Carla, her friend and part time lover, to help her.

She thrust her key home, frowning slightly to herself when she found the door unlocked but then shrugging her shoulders and making her way inside. Someone must be working late but that didn't matter, no doubt she would come across them as she worked her way through the various rooms. Thinking no more of it, she went to her closet, and changed into her work clothes, settling her mass of gorgeous wavy black hair over the collar of her overall before beginning her round.

Soon she was lost in her work and all thoughts of someone else being in the building faded - until she reached the executive office. She pushed into the room, her arms full of polish and dusters and with her vacuum trundling behind her, and stopped dead. There, in his big leather chair, sat Jacob Hartley, the big boss himself, the founder and owner of the company, his hands resting motionless on the desk in front of him as if in quiet contemplation.

'Oh, sorry Mr Hartley, I'll come back in a bit.'

'No Myra. Come in. It's you I wanted to see.'

She stood for a moment in surprised confusion, wondering what why he would want to see her. This had never happened before. Normally her duties and performance were handled by the office manager, not by the big chief himself. He rose from his chair and indicated another across the desk in front of him.

'Sit down, Myra. We need to have a little talk.'

She sat down obediently, her heart beginning to hammer with anxiety. Jacob Hartley resumed his seat and leaned on his forearms on the desk a stern expression on his usually amiable brown face.

'We trust you, Myra. That's why we let you hold a key to the building. You know that there are some things here that have large monetary value, and other things that possess significant commercial worth, and we trust you not to steal or copy them.'

Myra wasn't sure where this was headed. She had clearly done something wrong, although theft certainly wasn't it. He continued.

'So we are rather concerned to discover that you have been allowing a stranger into the premises when you're supposed to be here alone. How can we be sure that our competitors aren't gaining confidential information if you bring other people in without our permission?'

So that was it. She had been found out. Somehow Carla must have been seen either entering or leaving and now she was in trouble. She hoped and prayed she wouldn't lose her job. She needed the money, really needed the money, to survive, and in a college town any part time work was at a premium.

'I'm sorry Mr Hartley, really I am.'

'I imagine you are.' Jacob Hartley nodded at Myra's forlorn expression. 'But it really is a very serious matter, and it's certainly not something we can just ignore.'

'But she was with me all the time she was here, I promise you.'

'Yes, I know that.' He smiled at the look of surprise and bewilderment that flitted across Myra's face. 'And if you're wondering how I know, then I'll show you.'

He stood and reached a laptop from the book shelves behind him, placing it carefully on the desk and booting it into life. Satisfied that he had found what he wanted he spun it to face Myra, and then walked around the desk to stand behind her, sharing her view. On the screen was a picture of the office they were in, empty and silent. He reached over her and clicked the laptop, bringing the picture to life.

Myra gasped as she suddenly realised that she was seeing footage from a security camera hidden somewhere in this very office. She glanced up to her right to where she estimated the camera must be, but she could see nothing besides the files and folders that were stacked on the shelves. She closed her eyes briefly and groaned inwardly at what she knew was to come.

On screen both she and Carla entered the office, flitting around jerkily as the picture ran on fast forward, Carla vacuum cleaning the carpets and emptying the bins while Myra dusted and polished, both moving as if in an old silent movie.

'So, exactly who is that white girl you have with you, the one to whom you give access to my private office without a second thought?'

'Her name's Carla, she's a friend of mine. But she was never on her own here, honestly Mr Hartley.'

Soon the two figures were finished and they could be seen collecting their gear together. Jacob Hartley leaned forward again and changed it to normal speed, his hands moving to rest on Myra's shoulders as if to hold her in her seat.

'You know what happens now, don't you?'

Myra nodded mutely, her dark skin darkening further with embarrassment.

She watched herself move around to the end of the desk, facing the unseen camera, and rest her bottom on the desk, parting her legs to compensate for her height. Carla came to her and stood between her knees as they embraced, kissing long and passionately.

Myra felt sick, understanding that she was watching what Mr Hartley must already have watched and knowing exactly what he had seen. It wasn't having their behaviour captured that bothered her so much, she was by nature a bit of an exhibitionist and would sometimes get a kick from being seen, but it was the fact that they had thought themselves in private and had behaved accordingly. But then, she had to admit, they only had themselves to blame, because a security camera in their main office was a precaution many firms took and she should have realised.

The computer showed them kissing again, longer and more deeply, Carla's hands disappearing between them. Myra remembered that moment, that was when Carla took the lead for once, unbuttoning her overall and pushing a hand down inside the front, seeking and finding her cleft while her tongue explored Myra's mouth. That wasn't visible from the camera's viewpoint, but Myra could remember how quickly she had moistened, how she had opened her legs just a little further to allow the probing fingers in. And she also knew that what followed would be visible to the camera, very, very visible.

She turned her face away, not wanting to see herself in such a compromising position, but the hands on her shoulders moved to nudge her face back towards the front. There was, it seemed, to be no escaping her shame.

Carla's hands were now pushing her overall from her shoulders, quickly and expertly undressing her, unhooking her bra to let it fall into at her feet, dipping briefly to remove her thong. A quick kiss and then Carla's clothes followed Myra's, so that the two girls stood together naked and kissed again, white against brown, white hands urgently exploring a brown body while brown hands clutched fiercely around white shoulders.

'So you like girls?'

Her employer's voice broke into Myra's humiliation. She nodded silently, staring dejectedly at the screen.

'I didn't hear you.'

'Yes.' She whispered.

'Just girls? Or do you like men as well.'

'Both.'

'Good.'

Myra tried to look up in alarm, the implications of what he might be thinking suddenly beginning to register, but his firm hands kept her facing the screen.

'Don't look away. It gets better. But then you know that, don't you?'

She didn't reply, couldn't reply, as she watched Carla's gesticulated instruction and her own nodded, smiled assent. Carla moved the trays and diaries from the desk to the floor while she lifted her bottom onto the desk and then shuffled herself backwards until she could lie flat along the cleared top with her legs wide, her clean shaven pussy clearly visible to the camera. For a few moments Carla just stood and gazed at her pussy, and Myra felt again the thrill of being stared at, but then she dragged the heavy chair from behind the desk, placed it squarely in front of Myra's widespread legs and sat on it.

'A bit disrespectful, to use my chair like that, don't you think?'

'Yes Mr Hartley.'

Myra could feel herself trembling faintly under his hands, and was angry with herself for showing the weakness. She was sorry for doing what they had done, and especially for getting caught, and she was scared of losing her job with its much needed income. But she was also very much aware of how sexy she looked spread like that on top of her boss's desk, and her trembling was partially caused by the dampness she could feel between her legs. This sort of embarrassment always had that effect on her, dammit, nearly as much as having people looking at her naked.

'You shave your pussy.'

It was a statement rather than a question, but she answered anyway.

'Yes Mr Hartley.'

'Why?'

That was a direct question that required a straight answer, and her reluctant reply was barely more than a whisper.

'Because my girlfriend told me to.'

'And you have pierced your nipples, did she tell you to do that too?'

'Yes, Mr Hartley.'

'So you believe in doing as you are told? Now that's interesting.'

Myra didn't answer, she could almost hear the cogs in his mind working, and she could guess what conclusion they would come to. She closed her eyes briefly at the prospect.

Meanwhile on the laptop things had moved on inexorably. Carla had leaned forward, wrapped her arms around Myra's outspread thighs and pulled her close and was now lowering her face to her pussy. Myra watched in fascination, the sensations flooding back as she saw the back of Carla's head begin to move up and down in time to the tongue that was running along her slit. She'd not seen herself on film before, and the look of pure pleasure on her face made her smile in spite of her circumstances.

'Nice, was it?' His voice sounded breathless in her ear. 'You enjoyed what she was doing?'

'Yes, Mr Hartley.' She nodded, her eyes glued to the scene before her.

They both watched quietly for a few minutes, both of them breathing more quickly now because of what they were seeing, and Myra also because of being made to watch it. Being coerced into something always added spice to any kind of sex as far as she was concerned.

She watched her own face muscles begin to tighten and her eyes begin to close and she knew that if there had been sound she would have been heard moaning loudly under the influence of Carla's tongue. She had come like an express train, the intensity of her orgasm magnified by the unusual setting, and now she was actually seeing it happen. On screen her eyes squeezed shut and her head tipped back as the climax hit her. She hadn't realised just how much she had arched her back, or how she had grabbed at the desk top with clawed fingers, even though she could remember Carla gripping her thighs almost brutally in an effort to keep her still.

'You are an extremely responsive girl, I can see.'

'Thank you Mr Hartley.' It wasn't anything she had expected him to say, and her reply had been automatic, as was the little glow of pride she felt.

They were both breathing just a little more heavily from the arousing effects of what they had been watching and his grip on her shoulders had tightened to the point of discomfort. She wondered how far he would let the recording run for before he tried it on with her. That, after all, must be the reason for him making her watch it, and he must have realised that it was getting to her now as well as to him. She wondered too what her reaction would be.

The recorded images of the girls were panting too, especially that of Myra as she tried to get her breath back after her climax, while Carla seemed to be waiting impatiently for her to recover. A raised hand signalled Myra's readiness and she laid herself flat while Carla climbed onto the desk with her to kneel straddled over her face.

Myra had always loved this, to be lying on her back and to have a girl kneel over her and lower herself onto her face. She watched, hearing Mr Hartley breathing in her ear, and remembered Carla's scent as her wet pussy descended onto her tongue. She knew that Carla had reacted well; she had heard her pleasure noises and felt her urgent shudders. But now she could actually see her friend with her eyes closed, her hands gripping and tugging at her own nipples as she rubbed herself onto Myra's face.

'I think we've seen enough, don't you?'

Jacob Hartley leaned over and closed the programme, disappointing Myra in a totally unexpected way by robbing her of the chance to see Carla actually come, though of course she daren't say so.

'Yes Mr Hartley.'

'Now, the point is, what are we going to do about your misdemeanour?'

'I don't know, My Hartley.'

She didn't care, as long as it didn't involve dismissing her.

'I think we'll hold a disciplinary meeting and decide then.'

It was said as if the decision was made all of a sudden.

'Yes Mr Hartley. If you say so.'

He released her shoulders and went to sit in his chair, the one that Carla had used so effectively, taking out a memo pad and scribbling on it briefly before folding the page and passing it to Myra.

'Present yourself at this address instead of coming here when you're next scheduled to work.' He put his hand up as Myra opened her mouth to object. 'Don't worry, it will count as work and you'll be paid just the same, unless of course you decide not to attend. But if you don't turn up it will be assumed that you no longer wish to work for us and you'll have effectively dismissed yourself, do you understand?'

Myra nodded, her mind and heart both racing. She could see from the memo that the address was a private house in a wealthy suburb and she wondered what he had in store for her. Clearly it was not to be a normal disciplinary hearing and she could think of only one other thing it might be. She didn't want to go to bed with her boss, she shuddered at the thought, but if that's what it took to keep her job, then that's what it took.

Even so, she pondered it all the way home, sometimes deciding that as reasonably fit forty something he wouldn't be too bad, there were only a few grey curls among his wiry black hair and his body looked fairly solid enough. But then at other times she was thinking that no way was she going to forced to have sex with someone against her will, except that, and it was a big exception, the very fact of the compulsion was making her contrarily want to do it -- if that's what he really had in mind.

By the time she was due to go she had made her decision. She would go through with whatever he had in mind, but if he came on too strong, or wanted anything too kinky, then to hell with the job.

The address turned out to be a large modern brick built multi bedroomed house in about half an acre of neatly mown lawn and surrounded by a high pyrachanthus hedge. It was not the most inviting of homes and Myra stood on the street looking at it for a while and wondering what she might be letting herself in for before she finally got up the nerve to go and knock on the door. Even the reproduction knocker sounded forbidding to her anxious ears as it echoed through the door.

To Myra's surprise it wasn't her boss who answered the door, but a tall blonde white woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She had a willowy, hour glass figure, with pale blue eyes and the sort of fragile, china doll good looks that can so often conceal a strong and determined woman.

'Come in, Myra, go straight along.'

She hadn't met the woman before as far as she knew, but she clearly knew who she was answering the door to.

Only one of the doors off the hall was open and it was towards that one that she was ushered. She walked slowly and rather nervously, standing at the doorway when she got there, unsure if she should go through.

'Come in Myra, you're exactly on time, and that will go in your favour.'

That voice belonged to Jacob Hartley, and he was standing with two hands resting on the back of a chair in much the same way as they had rested on her shoulders in the office. She shivered nervously from the memory as she looked around what turned out to be a dining room. There were two others in the room, a tall, well built and swarthy complexioned man of around thirty with wavy dark hair and a slightly older black woman.

'Let me introduce you to Helen,' He indicated the blonde woman, 'and her husband Grant, who is my accountant. And not least also to Nina, my lovely wife.'

Nina was indeed lovely, slim, poised and petite, and very, very dark, almost genuinely black, but with a wide gap toothed smile that welcomed Myra and looks that revealed her East African birthright.

Myra's gaze went from one to the other of them but she remained silent, not sure if she should speak or not. Her boss had offered no explanation for their presence, and she didn't like to ask.

'Take a seat.' He pointed at a chair on the opposite side of the table to himself.

Myra sat, finding herself clinging anxiously to the edge of the seat, her eyes watching the others arrange themselves opposite her.

'Myra.' He began without preamble. 'When you were issued with a key to the office you were told that under no circumstances were you to lend it to anyone, to let anyone else make use of it, weren't you?'

She nodded miserably, seeing her position under serious threat.

'There is no doubt that you broke that rule, for the proof is on that recording. You did allow someone to make use of it, and the fact that you were also present doesn't alter that.' To his side Helen gave Myra a tiny smile of amused encouragement, as if to let her know that all was not yet lost, even though the next words seemed to shatter that possibility.

'We simply cannot allow that to happen, it is and must always be an automatic dismissal offence.'

Myra felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She couldn't afford this.

'However.'

She looked up, eager to hear the 'however'.

'However, we are willing to consider your reinstatement under certain conditions.'

'Anything, Mr Hartley.' She had completely forgotten her earlier reservations in her panic to hold on to her job.

'Say that when you've heard our conditions.'

He leaned forward and looked at her intently.

'First I must inform you that you may walk away at any time, but that if you do then your position with this company will be instantly forfeit. Do you understand?'

Myra nodded, not quite sure where things were headed.

'We intend that you shall be disciplined and that you shall then be given a chance to prove that you can obey instructions. If you impress us, then you may remain in our employ, but if you don't...' He let the words trail away.

'We don't intend to discipline you in the usual modern way, with written warnings or a docking of salary, but in a more traditional, personal manner. In other words you will receive a spanking which will be administered by Helen. After that we will appraise your willingness to obey instruction and during that you must submit to whatever we ask of you. I must inform you that it will involve acts similar to those you committed on my desk.'

He was so obviously setting up a pretext to misuse her and he must have seen her jaw drop open with dismayed realisation, and known that she was about to protest.

'Don't bother telling us that employers aren't allowed to do that sort of thing these days, because if you do then I'll remind you that employees are not allowed to screw their girlfriends across my desk either. And, I might add, if you decide to report my offer, nobody here will ever agree that it was ever made. Understand?'

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byOtazel© 5 comments/ 26114 views/ 3 favorites

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