Chloe and the Agency Pt. 01

She'd always been a pretty girl; has been used to men looking at her since she was 13 and her breasts began to grow. Her breasts are obvious – impossible to ignore – large for her slim frame, and firm with it.

They're the first thing people notice about her, and since she has always been a sensual person, enjoying her body; the pleasure it can give and receive. She has happily learned to dress to advantage, although nothing too tarty. And she's always liked strong, decisive men.

None of this is extraordinary, or interesting, until something happens that pushes her out of the ordinary. She's always been quite ordinary – decent grades at school, but not spectacular; stayed on for A levels , but didn't go to university; neither the most popular girl, nor an outcast, just one of the girls.

After school she got a decent job as a trainee legal secretary with a local firm, and did all the things young people do - went to dances, went on holidays, had various boyfriends. She was happy enough, but somehow, things always seemed a little pointless - the job dull, the boys shallow, unexciting.

Then something happened. She went down to London, sent by the firm, to an industry trade show – she was doing well with her training and they sent her for a bit of a reward. She was approached by a woman – a very well dressed, well spoken, discreetly glamorous woman, from some sort of exclusive recruitment agency; a very impressive personality.

She didn't have any specific job in mind, she said, but based on CV and general presentation, Chloe could easily double her money if she were to come to London. She gave Chloe her card. C shook her head; "No; sorry, not sure", and anyway, she had a new boyfriend at home. The woman, M, asked could C meet her later at a bar, to meet her colleague, and C said 'Why not?' – M was full of interesting information – much more informative than the seminars at the conference, and C was tired of walking round trade stands.

M came with a colleague, D - an olive skinned woman, very severely elegant (M was blonde). They were both very friendly, in a measured, slightly mocking way – C didn't mind; she was flattered that they would talk to her at all – and they really knew their stuff.

After a while they said 'enough shop talk', and asked about C, her home life. All very friendly, taking a polite interest . They paid her many compliments on her appearance, her body. It was all done in a woman-to woman sort of way, though, so although C was a little embarrassed at their frankness about her breasts, her lips, her arse, she did feel pleased and proud, in a foolish way. She was very young – still only 21.

They began talking about how well C could do – not pushy, more compliments really, but they did have a direction. They were talking about how simple men are, how a pretty girl can get a long way, if she has the ability as well. C supposes now that they wanted to see if she froze up at that point. Quite the opposite – she got a slight feeling that they might be interested in her themselves. She was flattered, a little drunk, and in a public place – with no fear that anything really bad could happen, so she giggled, let them see in her eyes she was interested.

They began to give her specific advice about clothes, tricks with the body, to distract a man, fill his head with thoughts of sex. It was all good fun, C was giggling, even as she was blushing – they of course, were cool as cucumbers, watching her. Chloe sort of knew she was being played. But she was liking it a great deal, liking their eyes on her, liking it that such successful women were paying her so much attention.

She even put on a bit of a show for them, tried out little walks up and down the bar, giggling, but knowing that they [and others in the bar] were enjoying seeing her display herself. When they announced they had to go, C was crestfallen; it shocked her how strongly she felt about it. They said their goodbyes, reminded C that she had their card, smiled cool smiles and left.

After a few seconds, she suddenly felt that if she let this chance pass, she would regret it all her life. She jumped up, ran down the street after them;

"Er, Hi! Again! .. Umm";

They turned, smiling, puzzled; now she was so embarrassed she couldn't speak.

"What is it dear?" said the blonde (M...)

"Umm, well, I .. Er .. Well I'm here in London on my own, and my train isn't until 10 tomorrow, and I wondered .. ", now she began to think the whole thing was a disaster.

But they knew what she meant. M laughed in a slightly patronising way - but Chloe accepted it, somehow, as appropriate;

"Well, we're off to another meeting actually, with a client, which might go on late; I'm not sure that's what you would really want to do on a rare evening in London."

She hadn't said C couldn't go. Risking a put down, she said;

"I could do some of those things you told me, and distract him!"; meaning it only partially as a joke, but still taken aback when D, who spoke less often, and who was more serious, did something quite powerful.

She put out a finger and lifted C's chin: "You want to be careful, pretty Chloe, you might get into deep waters." She smiled at the girl, but there was a challenge in her eyes; 'are you really up for this?'.

A sudden rush of daring came over Chloe. These women were quite realistic about a sort of sexual currency in business dealings. She giggled a bit, and then a small, nervous, but sincere voice, which she realised was hers, said;

"If I fancy him, I might not mind."

She was blushing crazily. She had as good as told them she would fuck their client if they took her with them. Of course it all sounded like joking, but D's eyes were locked onto hers, and she could see that C meant it. And somehow, she did. C liked the idea of these two knowing she would let a stranger fuck her for the sake of their attention.

D's smile relaxed a little, and something changed in her attitude toward C. She ceased to act as if she was interested in Chloe's feelings from that instant onward, revealed her cool and calculating self. She began a slow, almost offensively direct survey of C's body, as if looking over a horse. C is a little surprised, then shocking herself, realises she is pleased - somehow this means they are taking her seriously, and she finds she desperately wants to be taken seriously. She finds herself shifting to stand more prettily, and waited until D's eyes met hers again, nervous now, but wanting her to see that she was game, trembling, she feels her nipples stiff. She is excited, and frightened, but knows she is going to go through with whatever comes with this glorious attention from these increasingly fascinating, masterful creatures.

M stepped closer, and claimed C's attention; her voice was soft, almost concerned; "You know, D is right. You don't really know what you're saying. The man we're going to see...

" "Please, please, let me come with you – I'll be helpful, I promise – my shorthand is good, and I won't say a word!"

There was a short silence. M and D exchanged glances. D looked at Chloe, back at M, and nodded.

It was M's turn to do the controlling thing with her finger under C's chin.

"Very well. You may accompany us. It goes like this; the man we are visiting has very strict dress codes for young female staff. We will need to go and buy you a shorter skirt, some higher heeled shoes and some hold up stockings. I think the blouse will do if we cut off two or three buttons, and you won't need your panties. You will not speak. Shorthand will not be required. You will meet his eyes only briefly when you are introduced or if he addresses a direct question to you – your eyes will be lowered the rest of the time. Don't try any of the moves we mentioned. Concentrate on walking elegantly and keeping your thighs apart and your hands by your sides or behind you back. If are successful in 'distracting him' it is likely that he will use either your mouth or your pussy, possibly your ass."

C stared at her for a few seconds, foolishly, shocked. And then realised that this was no more than she had offered myself for – it was just that M had put it plainly. But it was still a shock. Now was the time to walk away.

But she couldn't; couldn't lose face, partly. So she blushed, and looked down. Her knees felt weak, but she didn't move away, and after a moment, looked up again, into M's eyes, shy, seeing that M was indeed serious, totally sincere. C's heart does a little flip, then she giggles again, nervously, and hears herself say

"O .. OK."

She giggles some more, knowing how weak this is, that her vulnerability is clear.

"Have you ever had a man fuck your ass before?"

It felt somehow pathetic to admit to her that this outrageous seeming act, which she would have slapped any boyfriend for even mentioning in passing, was outside her experience, as if she had let M down. But she didn't dare lie;

"No, no I haven't."

It was all so strange! But she genuinely wanted to oblige. Not sexually excited yet (although there were stirrings), but personally excited, exhilarated - certainly.

"In that case , I feel certain that we will find ourselves informing him of this, and that he will want to take your virginity there. What do you have to say to that?"

M still had her finger under C's chin, and she froze for a few seconds – this was the point at which she should back down. She couldn't not tell the truth. The truth, though, startled her as she spoke, quietly, in a breathy voice;

"I .. I think .. I think I'd quite like that to happen. W .. Will you still be there?"

C was bright red, her cheeks pulsing with heat. How could she be saying these things? Yet she had no thought for anything else other than pleasing these two.

"Oh yes, he likes an audience. If the meeting is a success, we'll pay you £500. Come on, there's a lot to do. Oh, and one final thing. Don't EVER, interrupt me , or D, like that again. You stay quiet, speak when you're spoken to; listen and learn, and be extremely polite. D and I are 'Madam', and the client is 'My Lord' because he is a Lord, and his staff are all either Sir or Madam."

They marched her into an expensive boutique, and quickly bought her a gorgeous little pleated grey skirt – a size too small and really short. Two doors along she wore a pair of high heeled wedge soled pale blue strappy mules out of the shop, and in a flash department store she was provided with white hold up stockings, and accompanied to the dressing room by M, who watched as she removed her panties and tights, took them from her and binned them, just as her old skirt and shoes had gone. The stockings were short, really only a few inches beyond the knee, leaving an expanse of bare, inviting thigh. C thanked god she'd just had her legs waxed, and had shaved her pubes a little, to neaten them. Then;

"Lift your skirt."

C was shocked, but suddenly knew, clearly, that she wanted to. Really wanted to. In fact, she suddenly realised she wanted M to touch her there. Still, it was hard to do such a wanton thing, in a public dressing room! For a near stranger! How could this be?

Nevertheless, slowly and with short, shallow breaths, she lifted the new skirt to show her pussy to M for the first time. She was so frightened that M would decide she was ugly down there, and call it all off. She didn't dare drop her hands, and stood there, trembling, until M spoke;

"A nice enough puss. Still too curly; – just a neat line down the middle is all you need to bring attention to your slot: the rest should go; but you'll pass. Are you wet?"

Again, the insistent need to be totally truthful, however betraying;

"Um .. A .. A little" - more fiery blushing.

"He'll want to find you wet. Keep thinking about being pushed over his desk and him taking you in the ass, with us watching. If that doesn't work, you must tell me in the lift at his office that you need assistance. Come on, quickly now."

The rest of the journey is a blur – she was ignored in the taxi as they discussed business matters, facts and figures. She was trying to concentrate on getting wet down below. She didn't think M's advice very sensible – the thought of having her ass fucked had always made her squirm before. But maybe that squirming was because, somewhere deep down, some dirty part of her wanted it. She doesn't know.

In any case, she did get wetter.

One thing she knew, though. She wanted 'assistance' in the lift. From M or D. Or both of them, preferably. She began to get very wet.

C didn't have to ask: D, very matter of factly said "lift your skirt, girl", even before the lift doors closed, and, after only a tiny hesitation, she just obeyed; D's hand was at her immediately, and C nearly swooned from pleasure and shame, in equal proportions as two fingers with long, lacquered nails ran along her slit, ending at her clit – now peeking out from its hood. She was being sexually manipulated by a stranger in a lift, with another stranger looking on!

"Look at me girl!"

She was quite frightening, really. M was firm, and strong, and C knew she would never challenge her. But D was somehow terrifyingly cold. Disobedience didn't even occur to her.

D's face was impassive, C had no way of knowing if she liked her pussy, approved of her wetness, or not. She might as well have been studying a routine two page report. C, on the other hand, was almost overcome with the intensity of it.

"Just remember, do exactly as you are requested to at all times; keep quiet, smile prettily, be very well mannered and pretty-behaved. Try not to think – we'll look after everything for you."

The fact that this bald statement engenders is not a turn-off – far from it, it makes her almost delirious, is like a wet dream - mad, totally crazy, but relentlessly pulling her forward.

The building they are in just reeks of money and power, and it's intoxicating; a visible quiver runs through her, and she hyperventilates a little, before calming herself down, shooting a look of reassurance at M as the lift slows.

"You may drop your hem now, pretty" says M, which makes C giggle – how strange, to have gotten so relaxed about showing her naked pussy in a public place so quickly.

A look from D quiets her immediately, and she takes a deep breath, knowing she must not become hysterical - realising that it is a real possibility - that her excitement is a hair's breadth from becoming panic if she lets the strangeness get to her, terribly conscious of the way her cleavage is now exposed by the removal of three buttons from the thin cotton blouse.

She darts a quick, nervous smile at M and they are walking a short way along a wide and plush hallway to an outer office where three women sit. Two are young, pretty, leggy, busty, skimpily dressed, not so much sitting as kneeling on funny back to front chairs, knees spread apart, now looking up and smiling radiant, open, soft smiles of welcome. The other woman is in her mid 50's, conservatively dressed, short, awkward looking, fussy, angular.

She stands and approaches them;

"Miss M, Miss D. Welcome. We weren't expecting three."

M says "Yes of course, I'm sorry, Chloe here just happened to be available at the last minute, and we hoped she would be acceptable."

C thinks it sounds as if she is simply to be given to this man, as a sweetener, that it was always the plan that this would happen, that it's not surprising in this environment. She thinks she ought to do something about this, but, very simply, she doesn't want to. Instead, she just thinks how clever and amazing M and D are – to have got her to this stage of accepting the unbelievable, without any seeming effort at all, in under three hours.

She is trembling tinily all over; horribly aware of the gazes of the two bimbos, who are no doubt fully aware of her likely fate. The thought of leaving doesn't even occur to her; instead, her mind is busy with wishes that she wasn't blushing so obviously, that she could be as cool as all the others. But then it is not they whose skirts are being matter-of-factly raised by the older PA to expose an obviously well-lubricated sex; whose slit is once again being investigated by strange fingers in a curiously impersonal way.

Part of her demands that she run away, scream, shout. But in fact she stands there, as calmly as she can, thighs well apart, as the woman concludes her little study. She can't keep a little gasp of pleasure to herself, as the woman, either accidentally or intentionally flicks her clit, deliciously.

One of the girls giggles, to be quelled by a stern look form the older woman. C blushes again. If allowed to speak, she would ask all of these women to ravish her, right there. She is more ready for sex than she has ever been, and she is loving the feeling that she is not responsible. Yes, she got herself into this situation, but now there is nothing to be done but obey.

"Her presentation is acceptable, if a little unrefined." M says, "She's quite fresh, not trained, but she responds well."

"She is fully available?"

"Oh yes, completely"

What did that mean? If the last hour is anything to go by, more than she can imagine. It's a risky, exciting, portentous phrase - "fully available" - it makes her feel all loose inside.

"Very well, I will announce you."

And the woman knocks on an imposing door and leans through;

"Miss D and Miss M for their meeting, sir"

She ushers them in after a short, sotto voce conversation. The room is huge, heavily panelled in dark wood, with dark, heavy, masculine furniture. The man standing at its centre is also dark; tall, broad-shouldered but not too heavily built: strongly featured if not handsome, relaxed, supremely confident. She goes weak at the knees, knowing that she is going to encourage this stranger to fuck her. And, she realises, she really wants it to happen. She's ready to bend over his desk right now and ask him to fuck her as hard as he likes. She's never felt so horny in her life. Or so vulnerable.

He greets M and D warmly, makes a little small talk, without seeming even to notice C, who stands, her hands at her sides, desperately self conscious. The formalities subside, and Lord K (for that is his name, and C recognises him from pictures in Tatler and Queen) looks quizzically at C, then over to M;

"I take it this is a little gift for me?"

"Yes, my lord; a little de-trop, perhaps, but she became fortuitously available, and, well we couldn't think of anyone better to offer her to – if she is to your taste, of course."

C is trembling; he approaches;

"She's nervous!"

"Extremely fresh, my lord, but ripe."

He smiles, lifts C's chin in a way becoming familiar, looks into her eyes before she demurely looks down;

"Don't worry, pretty; you wouldn't be here if it wasn't what you need. Look at me now!"

She knows that this is the voice of her ideal man; strength without any need to bully or rage. Her gaze quails before his ; she feels he can see the thoughts rushing through her mind;

"I think you'd be happier stripped, with your wrists restrained? You're all of a flutter."

A pause, as he looks at her , teasing with his eyes – she is melting. She thinks she had better answer, but no sooner do her lips move than he makes a shushing gesture, his fingers at her lips.

"Quiet, you need only answer direct questions. Others know what is best for you now. Step up onto the low table now, and prettily remove your blouse, bra and skirt; display yourself to me."

And so, because there is nothing in her head but the need to please, she strips; without dramatic, 'stripper' moves, but doing her best to display herself to advantage, to telegraph submissive modesty allied to helpless arousal (all as suggested by M and D in the bar) , until she is wearing nothing but the stockings and the heels.