Branding Poppy

Author's note: I've agonised over this damn story for a long time, and I've gone through more edits than I care to think about. So the time has come to bin it or throw it out into the harsh light of day and see if it can spread its wings. Some might reasonably assert it would have been better binned...

And, of course, any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Springing the Baited Trap

Poppy had the kind of eyes I always fall for, clear and optimistic, full of the joy of life. I suppose it is my weakness, being a romantic, but here I am and I won't change. Not that I can. But it does make things complicated sometimes.

She had popped her head around my office door to ask me if it was ok if she left early. I had no objection; I'm a relaxed employer as long as the work gets done, and sometimes everyone needs to bunk off a little. She smiled and I melted a little more, my eyes taking in her legs and her cleavage and her off-beat hair with its white streak then she turned and was gone. Such a gorgeous young woman and a credit to the firm: such a shame about the clear and damning details about her. Still, it's gratifying when a plan comes together.

* * *

The car park was dark and almost empty and her car was easy to find. Two flat tyres later I retreated to my Jaguar, strategically parked in the opposite corner. The shopping centre was closing so I didn't have to wait long for Poppy. I relaxed and breathed deeply as she walked across the tarmac, imagining her cunt as her legs moved, her heels clicking and her boutique bag swinging. I chuckled gently as she stopped abruptly in front of her car and her shoulders slumped.

"Rough luck!" I called out in my friendliest voice as I pulled over next to her.

"Oh, I am glad to see you. Can I use your spare as well as mine?" she said, relief in her voice.

"Out of luck, I'm afraid. I lent mine to a neighbour just this morning. You'll need to get the garage out for it."

She sighed and reached for her phone, and I studied her again. Her skirt finished three inches above her knee, respectable enough (just) for the office, but clearly chosen to accentuate the smooth curves of her pert arse and the full length of her slender legs. Soon enough I would spread those legs, ploughing into her cunt and hearing her squeal.

"Not the best idea, Poppy. Do you really want to wait around here on your own? In the dark?"

She glanced around at the shadows that the sodium lights failed to illuminate, unsure now. I hoped she was feeling a twinge of insecurity. I would offer her hope, only to make its later withdrawal all the sweeter.

"Look, I've got a particularly dull meeting at my house with Miss Hewson. Please, come back with me and call the garage from mine, have a coffee, and take my mind off the resolutely un-amusing Jane. When the meeting is over I'll give you a lift back here and you can meet up with the recovery driver."

It was so simple, so reasonable; that moment in the literature when the heroine struggles with her inner voice, but when it's her charming boss and not a leering stranger? She grasped the outstretched branch and pulled herself to shore, and with her boutique bag by her side she sat in the passenger seat, filling my car with a hint of perfume. I felt so much calmer with her there, smiling gratitude at me, as I knew the first hurdle was so easily overcome. The rest would surely follow. I smiled back and discussed the strange rash of flat tyres that seemed to be breaking out as I drove home, the inconsequential chatter lulling her perfectly; I had my thunderbolt to deliver, and those are always more startling from a clear sky.

As we pulled into my driveway my headlights illuminated the back of Jane Hewson's car. A word about Jane Hewson; she is one of nature's classic beauties but I have never met a more work-focussed, obsessively driven, humourless irritant in my life. Her redeeming features are minimal and well hidden. But she is efficient, and she does so enjoy lesbian domination in her cold way, so it's not all bad.

Of course, the one thing Jane Hewson most certainly cannot do is lighten a mood. But Poppy was the perfect antidote, relating mildly titillating office gossip as our eyes swam over the account books. She was entrancing and sophisticated as a beautiful thief should be and I stole another glance as she leant forward, her lips parted slightly as she breathed out in mock concentration, a cheeky grin and her eyes meeting mine. I sighed and decided that now was the time, regretful that this game could not be spun out forever.

"Of course, there is the other issue," I said to Jane, our pre-arranged signal.

"Yes, the Jervis and Pratt situation," said Jane, maintaining her cold detachment.

Poppy was trying (and failing) to disguise her sudden confusion; had we discovered her treachery? Was this merely innocent? Would she be able to breathe out again, her second moment of relief that evening? Had she even heard correctly?

"Perhaps you could shed some light on the matter, Poppy," I said, a stern undertone to my voice as I looked her straight in the eye, the change occurring in milliseconds. And she knew at that instant, that second when I wasn't all smiles anymore. The colour drained from her face as she looked at me and I prepared my pin to stick through her, fixing her in my collection.

"Poppy, if you sell confidential information to a competitor, at least make sure that the owner isn't in the same Lodge as me. Jervis will certainly use that information and I don't blame him, though it isn't as vital as he thinks, but it hasn't stopped him from telling me that I have a spy in my midst and precisely who it is," I said, savouring her turmoil. She had no answer, and to her credit she didn't even try.

"It seems to be a police matter, then. I expect you will escape with a suspended sentence, but the criminal record will close every door you ever wanted open. "

She may have been resigned but that didn't stop the whip crack of my words. She wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye with her fingertips, but she resolutely refused to make a sound. There was much that was admirable about her, a certain strength that could be useful, and if she made the right choice I would certainly be lenient in my own fashion. The wrong choice? She could go hang for all I cared.

"I want to offer you a way out," I said quietly.

She looked up, hopeful again; poor little trapped Poppy. I suspect I was a cat in a previous life for the play was as good as the kill. I sat on the corner of my desk and used my height to intimidate her. Casually I reached out and took her boutique bag and checked the contents. It was nicely expensive underwear, artfully designed scraps of lace and cotton calculated to excite her boyfriend, some under-deputy-junior drone in our call centre. I sniffed its newness then looked into Poppy's eyes again as I dropped her lingerie back into the bag. She bit her lip as she glanced across at Jane then froze, and I grinned as I saw the intent expression on Jane's face as she mentally stripped and fucked Poppy in an instant.

Poppy looked back at me and I nodded. I could see the calculation behind her eyes and then slowly, so slowly, she reached up to the top button of her blouse. I knew she would make the right choice! And my enquiries had suggested that she might not altogether mind.

"Stand up!" I ordered as I went back behind my desk and sat down. Slowly Poppy complied, her eyes expressionless now.

"Continue undressing", I said, and she eased open the second button, then the third, her cleavage more inviting with each reluctant twist of her fingers. The last two buttons were soon undone and then she flicked open her cuff buttons. She looked at me quizzically and I raised my eyebrows expectantly. Did she really think I would relent with my cock rapidly expanding? I could almost feel the pulses of blood rushing along my shaft, hardening it for the fucking to come.

Poppy's blouse dropped and Jane unfolded from her chair. She prowled around Poppy, appraising her, and only long practice allowed me to see her tell, a sneering flare of her disdainful nostrils. Her slow movements hypnotised Poppy, who could only flinch and breathe in sharply as Jane suddenly took hold of Poppy's bra straps where they rested on her shoulders. Jane was gentle for a moment, caressing Poppy's soft skin before whipping the straps down to Poppy's elbows and exposing her breasts. Poppy gasped, staring at me with another mute appeal and I returned my evilest smile as Jane took hold of the hem of Poppy's skirt. Slowly and deliberately Jane pulled it up to show the tops of her tan stockings, and as she eased the skirt over Poppy's hips, a skimpy pair of white panties.

"Take them off!" whispered Jane savagely in Poppy's ear. Poppy didn't react to this so Jane smoothly wrapped Poppy's hair in her fist and yanked Poppy's head back. I noticed that Poppy's knees were trembling and once more, I found myself being impressed by Jane's particular skills. "Take them off!" Jane whispered again, more softly but this time with real menace as Poppy suddenly panted and quavered. The little whore was enjoying this in her twisted way but that was no surprise; my informants weren't cheap, but they were accurate.

Poppy tentatively reached for the sides of her panties and slowly rolled them over her hips and down her thighs, her head still pulled back and Jane looking for all the world like a wolf with a young deer. Poppy's panties fell to her ankles and she lifted her left foot out of them, letting them stay on her right, and Jane slowly eased her grip. I drank in Poppy's body, fixing this look amongst my treasured memories as she stood, shaken, her stiff little nipples high on her breasts, and her cunt shaved but for a strip; my favourite look. Poppy was most certainly made for me, but before I took possession I had one more hook to bait.

"I know what you were doing last Thursday night," I said levelly, and from the look of shock on her face I knew that I had hit home, "and the Saturday before that. And I know your boyfriend doesn't know. So be a bit more enthusiastic and I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

I smiled to myself at this last little barb; unknown to her boyfriend Poppy was an habitué at one of the nastiest bars in town, where she let herself get picked up by the roughest of bastards then discarded after the act was done. It was her darkest need, devoid of emotion, an all-consuming itch to be owned, controlled, to be someone's dog.

Poppy's sweet face was transfigured by a lust she couldn't fight down now as Jane reached around her, methodically placing her manicured fingers on Poppy's breasts. Poppy's breathing was heavy as Jane caressed her tits until suddenly she pinched her nipples, hard, and at that second when Poppy moaned instead of screaming I knew our conquest was complete. Hardly relaxing her grip Jane twisted her around, pushing her back until her bottom brushed up against the cool wood of my desk before forcing her down until she lay on her back, her legs dangling, her feet not quite reaching the floor. She looked so succulent that my cock strained once more, and I freed it from my trousers, letting it stand straight up and ready to come inside this beautiful, treacherous slut.

Jane used her knee to force Poppy's legs apart and then, leaving one hand on her chest to pin her, she pressed fingernails into Poppy's skin. Poppy gasped again, and from the sudden aroma of cunt that enveloped me there was no doubt that she was wet. Jane then dragged her nails down across Poppy's stomach, and she pushed her hips up, trying to move her cunt towards Jane's hand.

"Greedy slut!" said Jane as she moved her hand up to Poppy's throat, "what do you say?"

"Please touch me, please fuck my cunt," Poppy replied in a tiny voice that almost made me come there and then.

"And don't forget it," Jane said as she moved down to Poppy's cunt once more. Poppy moaned loudly and deeply as Jane pushed a finger into her, fucking her for a second before pulling her finger out again and rolling Poppy's wetness between her finger and thumb. She stepped away and picked up her workbag and Poppy began to close her legs. I knew that Jane would not be amused by such behaviour.

"Don't fucking move, slut!" Jane barked, stern and unyielding, and Poppy froze, stung, only her eyes now following Jane as she reached into her bag and produced a large black dildo. Her eyes goggled as I saw her wondering if she could take it all in her cunt, but I knew Jane, and depending on her mood Poppy might be begging for it between those sweet lips before too long, given the alternative. Jane stepped back to Poppy and held the dildo close to her face, making sure she could see all its dimensions.

"I don't think I can..." Poppy began to whimper.

"No one asked your fucking opinion," said Jane, holding the dildo by Poppy's mouth, "spit on it." At the second time of asking Poppy managed to spit a glob of glistening saliva on to the latex.

"Rub it in," ordered Jane, and Poppy reached out her hand tentatively and began to stroke her spit around the head and along the shaft. I watched intently as she wanked the toy and I watched Poppy's face, too, as she had to know what this was a prelude to. And the little back-stabbing whore was completely focused, almost loving, though the apprehension was still evident. When Jane was satisfied she took the dildo and put it between Poppy's legs, the head an inch away from her overheated slit. For a moment everything was still, perfect, pregnant, and then Jane pushed the head of the dildo between Poppy's cunt lips, stretching her as she moaned desperately, her nails scraping along the top of my desk.

I stood and began to remove my clothes as Jane stared into Poppy's eyes, pushing the dildo an inch deeper into her. Poppy began to work her hips on the dildo, and as I dropped my trousers I saw both hunger and self-disgust in the look she was giving Jane, knowing that we understood exactly what she was. Poppy now moved her own hands to her breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples as Jane eased the dildo even deeper into her.

"Tell me you're my slut." said Jane, still staring at Poppy.

"I'm your slut," replied Poppy, shame fighting with lust, and Jane pulled the dildo almost completely out of Poppy's cunt before pushing it firmly back into her, making her moan uncontrollably once more.

"Again!"

"I'm your slut! I'm your cunt! Please fuck me!"

I decided that it was only appropriate at that moment to climb onto the desk and kneel next to Poppy's face. My cock was swaying as I moved, deliciously hard and I knew that her touch would make me feel primal. "Open your mouth. No teeth," I said, and I grabbed her hair to hold her steady and let my hard cock fall on her waiting tongue. After a moment I pushed my head between her lips, savouring the softness of her mouth and feeling a familiar rush of power.

I must say her skills were first class as I began to fuck her mouth, a little deeper with each thrust until she had half of me in her. Her moans were muffled now, as Jane continued to fuck her and I gloried in my cock owning her mouth, her tongue on my shaft. I reached down and twisted one of her nipples, and the jolt it caused forced her mouth even further onto my cock. Not deep throat yet, but not far away.

However, I had decided that the payment plan for Poppy's offences would be long and there would be plenty of time for everything. And I wanted her cunt more than her mouth at that moment.

"My turn, Jane," I said as I pulled free of Poppy and climbed off the desk. Jane gave Poppy a last, vicious look as she stepped away, placing the dildo upright on the corner of the desk. I moved between Poppy's legs and put my hands under her thighs, lifting her legs up and keeping them apart. Poppy instinctively moved away from me, her arse slipping back along my desk to keep her cunt away from my rock hard cock. But she wasn't to escape and I roughly pulled her back to me. Her lips brushed the head of my cock and a tiny 'oh' formed on her mouth, made bigger as I pushed into her soaking hole.

She was everything I had hoped for, a beautiful contradiction; her eyes showing her turmoil, even as her cunt betrayed her base needs. I pushed myself deeper as her folds enveloped my head completely and her tunnel caressed the top of my shaft. So far I had been soft, but now I was going to impose my authority. I used my strength then, pushing relentlessly until I was deep in her. Then I withdrew once to pound myself hard back into her, her squeals music to my ears.

I was ruthless, despicable, a pantomime villain devouring a trembling innocent as I fucked her mercilessly. She was mine now, and I watched her pleasure intently, her panties dangling from her ankle, her tits moving with every thrust, her knuckle in her mouth and her teeth biting down on it as her hips bucked up, meeting my cock as I violated her. She was close, her cunt rippling along the length of my cock, but it was too soon.

Pulling out I told Poppy to stand up and turn around to face the desk. Poppy eased herself upright, trembling slightly, her hands clenched on the edge of the desk to stop her legs giving way. From under my desk I produced a spreader bar and showed it to Poppy, and she looked at me with that curious mixture of lust and revulsion so indicative of the internal battle of the educated whore. I turned her and roughly pushed her legs further apart, then handed Jane the spreader bar as I pushed Poppy forward, making her bend at the waist until her breasts were squashed against my desk, her arse presented to me.

Jane efficiently secured the spreader bar to Poppy's ankles, as I teased the poor girl, moving a finger in gentle circles around the entrance of her cunt, dipping into her then pulling back. Her moans were growing in intensity again, little squeaks that became full-throated when I reached between her legs and pushed the ball of my thumb on to her clit. However, my pleasure was paramount and I was ready, my cocking bobbing and jerking of its own accord as it rested in the soft cleft between Poppy's cheeks.

Swiftly I rammed myself into her cunt again and she shuddered, her moans even louder and now animalistic. She wasn't allowed to vocalise her deep pleasure for long, however, as Jane was naked now. Jane's body was perfect, but I had learnt over the years that it held as much for me as a sculpture or a machine, fine to look at but devoid of personality. She climbed onto the desk and sat in front of Poppy, her legs open and her cunt lips full. She grabbed Poppy by the hair and pulled her face into her just as I thrust my cock even more savagely into Poppy, enjoying another flood of slick wetness around my shaft as I grasped her arse cheeks and kneaded them powerfully.

I began to pump deep and hard into Poppy, loving her muffled moans and the occasional gasps and squeals as Jane pulled her face out of her cunt to look down at her juices smeared across Poppy's face. I was fucking her faster and faster, and she gripped me; a wonderful feeling from the base of my shaft to the ridge around my head. The girl was clearly talented, and I had no doubt I could expand her education in ways I would revel in. And with the thought that I would have many lessons with Poppy I felt the ecstasy rise inside me and then focus on my cock as my cum rippled up my shaft before jetting into her cunt. My hard jerking was too much for the slut and she lost control, shaking and wailing as I jerked four more times, shooting my god-like spunk into her before I subsided, pulling my cock free of her as Jane forced her mouth back onto her cunt.

For the moment Poppy was of less interest to me than a bug and I stared down at her, detached, still shaking as Jane began to grunt with the beginnings of her own release. I reached down and lifted up Poppy's right ankle, slipping off her panties and wrapping them around my cock, watching them absorb the residue of my cum before slipping them into her shoulder bag as I strode over to my drinks cabinet and poured myself a victorious single malt.