Introduction Ch. 07

The holidays, with festive lights and decorations, parties with family, friends, and Daddy's business associates. This latest party showcased some of his most special associates, with a few of us family members to act as gracious co-hosts. Daddy's newest wife, Sarah whatever, had been all nerves before the start of the party, snapping at everyone, rearranging flowers while the caterers hovered nearby, anxious. Wreaths on the double front doors; a large tree in the central hallway, two curving banisters on each side. The tree reached to the top of the second floor railing and was on fire with hundreds of tiny white lights, and all gold decorations -- golden balls, ribbons, dangling ornaments. The effect was dazzling.

Jason and Maria were elegant, standing to one side, smiling and quietly greeting newcomers, urging them into the main dining hall. Daddy moving among the guests, Sarah at his side; A Mr. Winfield arrived from the New York office arrived; he had possibilities. Older, a little gray at the temples, nice suit. Hmm. Dr. Bloomfeld and Lacey were next to enter. Great.

I ebbed slowly along, carrying the same glass, nodding, smiling, greeting guests. A group of four string instruments sat behind one of the stairs, softly playing Christmas carols. Drinks were being passed around generously, followed by trays of delicacies. The banisters were decked with green boughs and the same white lights that were on the tree. It was beautiful.

It was boring. I stifled a yawn. Sarah had decided that my dress was "too showy." Translation: too sexy. I had to put on a blouse, sweater, and skirt with hose and low heels. I looked like a schoolgirl, which was probably her goal. Oh well.

Dr. Bloomfeld talked to me for a little while, then I finally edged away from everyone and went into the study and shut the door. Ah. I plopped onto one of the sofas. The door creaked open.

"Oh -- sorry." Mr. Winfield. I motioned him in. He hesitated, then came in, shutting the door behind him. "I just wanted a quiet space for a moment," he smiled apologetically. I smiled back.

Really, he was nice looking. And no one else around. And Daddy had said to be congenial....

I checked the door, acting as though it had not shut quit firmly, and I locked it quietly, then sat next to him and chatted for a few minutes. I stretched. I noticed his eyes traveling down my blouse, then moving sideways. Good. He was interested, but not sure how to proceed. I was, after all, the Boss' daughter.

I ran a finger down his tie. "Ooo, that feels very soft," I said. He swallowed nervously. We talked a few more minutes. I propped my head onto my right hand, my elbow on the back of the couch, leaning closer to Mr. Winfield of the New York office, and slowly unbuttoned his jacket. His hand went up, held mine still. "I -- I really don't want you to think -- I should leave -- " he stammered. How cute. I smiled.

"I locked the door," I said. "I'm just being congenial."

He was very nervous, poor dear. I mean, a little older than my own father -- well, just more fun for me.

"Tell me. What do you think of my bra?" I asked.

"Your -- what?"

"Bra." I unbuttoned two of the blouse's buttons, my eyes always on Mr. Winfield's face. "See?" I pulled my blouse out of my skirt a little, opening it at the top more. I leaned forward towards his face.

"This one is pale yellow. I like it. And seamless." I chattered about the bra. He was fascinated. His eyes were riveted to it. I talked on.

"Seamless is nice," I noted again. I smiled at him, then took his right hand and gently pulled it to my breast. "See? Very smooth." I held his hand in place, cupping the satin over my breast. He swallowed. His hand was quivering just the smallest amount. But he was watching my hand and my breast steadily.

I moved his hand a little on the cup. "Seamless feels good. Don't you agree?"

"Uh."

His hand stayed in place, though. I knew it would. I pulled my blouse all the way out of my skirt, finished unbuttoning it, and pulled my blouse open.

"And I like push-up bras. Very comfortable. Do you like them?"

"Yes." Good. He was finding his voice. His hand strayed a little, rubbing back and forth in small movements across my breast. I smiled.

"That feels nice." I moved to face him better, took his other hand, and placed it on my other breast. He cupped them, his thumbs finding the nipples even through the material. I breathed in deeply.

"That's good," I said. "What's your first name?"

"Ben."

"I like that name. Ben. Do you like my breasts, Ben?"

"Yes." His hands clenched a little, then relaxed. His eyes stayed on my breasts.

"Ben, I'm a little uncomfortable," I said. He froze, his hands not moving. He looked up at me, startled. I smiled. "No, I just need to stand up for a minute." He relaxed but was wary.

I stood in front of him and slowly unhooked the band of my skirt, unzipped the side panel, and held the material in place for a moment. I enjoyed this, him watching me, everything quiet in the room, while on the other side of the door were over two hundred people. I let my skirt drop, and he hissed.

Well. Of course he would. I mean, I'm shaved smooth, And I wasn't wearing panties. Sarah might have made me go schoolgirl in looks, but she hadn't worried about what I wore underneath.

Or didn't wear.

Those little just-over-the-knee stockings. Those are so nice and silky. I kicked off my shoes. I still had on the blouse and bra.

"Ben, do you like looking at me?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat, sitting on the sofa, watching, his eyes feasting.

I smiled and held out a hand. I motioned, and finally he put one of his hands in mine. I held out my other hand and grasped his second one. I placed his hands firmly on my hips, my fingers at his wrists, and held him there.

"Oh Ben," I said quietly, "I just don't think you were having enough fun at the party." I slid his hands up and down my hips a little.

"Do you like this, Ben?"

"Ye-" he coughed -- "Yeah. I do."

I moved his hands up and down my hips and the sides of my thighs, longer sweeps up and down. I was standing in front of him, my knees pressed to his.

"Ben, are you feeling excited?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." His breathing was definitely quicker and deeper. I edged closer, rocking back and forth on my feet as I moved to stand on each side of his legs.

I took one of his hands and began dipping it in a little towards my crotch, out again.

"Don't you like that, Ben?"

He nodded. I kept moving his hands up and down my hips, dipping in and back out to the sides, over and over, until he began doing that on his own. I lifted off my hands and took off my blouse and tossed it a few feet away. His hands kept moving on my hips. I was smiling and really enjoying this. I unhooked the bra and slid it off my shoulders, holding the cups over my breasts, pushing up a little so the flesh spilled over some. His eyes were watching, his hands kept moving, his movements stronger and more eager now.

"Do you want to see, Ben?"

He nodded.

"No, you have to tell me, Ben. Do you want to see?"

"Yes. I want to see."

"What do you want to see, Ben?"

His breath was harsh. "Your breasts. I want to see them."

I slowly pulled away the bra and tossed it aside on top of the blouse. He had a slight flush on his face. I was wearing studs in my nipples. Sarah would have realized I had rings on if I'd worn those.

I pulled one of his hands up my waist, slowly, until I brought it to the bottom of my breast, then I let him cup it, hold it, capture it in his hand and move his thumb across. I closed my eyes, then opened them, slowly.

"Ben, you're very good." I pulled up his other hand, placed it on my other breast, and while he held them, played with them, I edged closer to him, until I could pull my knees up and onto the sofa, one on each side of his legs. He moved his hands during this until they were finally at my back, holding me. My hands moved to his shoulders.

"Now, Ben, you've made me very excited. I want to play a while." I leaned closer to him, moving my nipples across his jacket and tie slowly, then I balanced on my knees on the sofa, lifting up, and held his head in my hands and pulled him close, and he took one of my nipples in his mouth. He found the stud and tugged at it a little, and I was surprised and pleased. It felt good.

"Oh yes, Ben, I like that." His hands moved down to my thighs, then my bottom, cupping me, lifting me up and towards his chest, and his mouth continued to nibble on my breast. I arched a little so I could push more of me into his mouth, and he took it.

His fingers began digging in me a little, finding the soft skin between the anus and lips, rubbing and pressing gently, and I moaned.

"Yes, Ben, yes, I like that," I said. I pushed against him a little. My clit caught against his tie pin, and I rubbed against it a little, back and forth, flicking my clit against it. "I really like this."

His hands gripped my skin harder, pulling my bottom apart, and I arched a little more now, trying to push my clit into his chest more for some relief.

I was breathing heavily. "What do you like most, Ben," I said, "what do you want most?"

"Everything," he said.

"What do you want first?"

His fingers jerked a little, and he pulled me up more, dipped his head, and kissed my belly. I pulled his head down and held it there, my fingers in his hair. His tongue found my navel, and he licked around it, his tongue dipping in, and I moaned.

"Ben..." I panted.

I could feel one of his hands moving, fumbling at his pants, and I stopped him, moving us apart long enough to unzip him, to open his pants, find his shorts and open them, pull out his cock. It was bulging and hard, with the ridged veins showing eagerness. I took it in one hand and moved the flesh up and down with my hand, sliding it up and down his penis several times, my hand lightly squeezing a little as I did. He moaned. "God," he moaned, and his head went back on the sofa and his eyes were closed. I moved my hand up and down more.

"Ben, are you ready?" I'd already been into his files along with a few other potentials the day before. He was safe.

I rubbed the head of his cock against my clit and he grunted. "Is this where you want it to go, Ben?"

"Yes oh God, yes," he whispered huskily.

I spread my lips apart with one hand then, and rubbed the head of his cock back and forth against them.

"Do you like this, Ben?"

"Yes!"

"You like your cock, rubbing on my pussy? Do you like my pussy, Ben?"

"Yes God yes!"

"Say it, Ben. Tell me you like it."

"I like it," he panted.

"No, tell me what you like," I whispered. I rubbed his cock against my open pussy.

"God," he almost shouted, "I like -- I like your pussy. I want it. I want it!" he said suddenly, almost fiercely.

"And -- am I naughty, Ben? For tempting you this way? For doing this?"

He was a little startled.

I nuzzled his neck, my hand still on his cock.

"Oh yes, Ben. I'm very bad. You will have to punish me, Ben."

"H- how?" He was eager, panting. Poor man.

"You have to take me, Ben. You need to be strong with me, Ben. Rough. After all, I'm the little slut who seduced you, right? so you need to be a little rough."

"Yeah. Yes." He was panting, and I felt his cock jerking. I pulled us both sideways onto the sofa, Ben tumbling a little towards me. I put my hands over my head.

"Hold my wrists, Ben," I said, "hold them down. You can't let me get away, Ben."

"That's right!" he panted, and grabbed my wrists with one of his hands and held them fiercely in place. He fumbled with his cock for a moment.

I opened my legs, one bent at the knee and up on the sofa, the other out and towards the floor. "And you can't be gentle with me, Ben. You can't be gentle with a slut who seduces you. You could be caught, Ben," I whispered, and he pushed my legs open a little wider, and I smiled.

"You can't let me go, Ben," I said again, "and you can't be easy with me. You have to be rough and hard. I teased you, Ben, didn't I?"

"Yes! You teased me," he panted, eager and nearly out of his mind with lust, and his fingers found my pussy with his free hand.

"And I put you in jeopardy, Ben, right? I mean, boss's daughter -- you could lose your job," I purred. His fingers opened my pussy wide, and his mouth was on one of my breasts, sucking. He lifted his head.

"That's right."

"And what do you call someone who seduces you, who puts you at risk, who teases you and who is soooo bad, Ben? I'm so bad. Tell me, Ben. What do you call me?"

"Slut?"

"That's right, Ben. I'm a slut. A tease and a slut. You need to punish me hard, Ben. You need to be rough with me and hold me down and not let me go until you've taught me a lesson, Ben. Until you've shown me how strong you are. Show me how strong you are, Ben. Tell me what a slut I am, and tell me how strong you are."

"I am strong, you little slut!" The head of his cock found my pussy. He was trembling with eagerness. He moved his other hand up and held one of my wrists in each hand. "You can scream, slut," he snapped, his cock moving in a little, "and you can struggle, but you can't get away from me." His cock moved inside me more, and I moaned. I arched my back, and he took that for a struggle.

"No!" he snarled, and I was glad because I'd been right. He was strong, and I'd seen his med reports and knew about the Viagara, and I knew he went on the prowl at parties, and I knew he was clean. And I was glad.

"Let me go, Ben," I said lightly.

"No!"

I struggled a little for good show. I was really pleased. His cock slid into me, and he was hard and thick and full, and he was half-angry and half-excited, and it was good.

He braced against the sofa and pushed angrily into me, shoving, jerking, using me, and a slut should be used, should be held down and used, and it felt good to me. He pumped and pumped into me and I clenched and built up to that wonderful shudder and cried out, and it excited him even more, and he pulled out and pushed in harder and faster, until he held still for a moment, and spewed cum inside me and gasped with pleasure, still holding me down on the sofa. He lay on top of me for a time, breathing hard, his hands still holding my wrists, his head on my breasts.

"Ben," I said after a time, "that was so good." I sighed.

After a moment, he lifted his head, looked at me. A wry smile. "You played me," he said.

"But you liked having your cock inside me. And it felt really good. You really are good."

He smiled, released my wrists. I lay on the sofa, my arms over my head, while he stood and tucked in his shirt, zipped his pants, straightened himself. He watched me the whole time. I smiled, my legs open. I dangled my left foot back and forth a little, off the side of the sofa. He leaned down and kissed my nipples, one by one, then my forehead, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. I lay on the sofa a while longer.

The door opened, closed, and I heard the click of the lock.

"Did you see?" I asked.

Bloomfeld nodded, standing over me. "Very exciting," he said.

I'd had a camera in there, and Bloomfeld and Lacey had gone to my room to watch.

"So?" I asked. Bloomfeld pulled a chair over and sat down. He trailed one of his fingers down my belly, back up, down to the navel, slowly, very slowly. I shivered a little and moved to sit up.

"No." He pushed me back down. He snapped his fingers, and I realized that Lacey was also in the room. He turned back to me.

"You really are a very bad little slut," he said with a smile. I shrugged.

He arranged me so that I sat on top of the sofa back, then Lacey helped me to lean backwards until my arms and the top of my head rested against the sofa, my shoulders and back of my head against the sofa's back. There was a leg at each end of the sofa, and a third in the middle. Lacey threaded a chain behind that, then up, and attached each end to a wrist cuff. She buckled those onto my wrists, then moved around to the sofa back and took my left leg near the knee, pulling it out.

Having my hips on the sofa back meant that I was very arched, and my hips protruded and my legs spread. It was an ideal position for someone interested in punishing a recently fucked pussy, though, which Bloomfeld was there to do. He held my right leg out to the side with one hand, and with his other, he used a thin cane.

He flicked it now against my clit, and I jerked a little.

"I'm very disappointed," Bloomfeld said in a matter-of-fact voice. He struck the cane against the mons. I quivered.

"I tried very hard -- " the thin cane flexed and whipped the inside of my thigh, and I whimpered a little, "- to teach you to keep your legs closed. Didn't I, Lacey?"

"Oh yes, Doctor, you did," I heard Lacey's voice. Her fingernails were digging into my leg.

The cane struck me on the inside of my other thigh, then solidly across my clit. I jerked again.

"And I really don't understand," continued Bloomfeld, stopping to stroke one of the welts with his finger while I moaned, "why you can't keep your legs closed. Can you tell me why she can't, Lacey?"

The cane slid up along the insides of my flesh, the tip prodding a little at my clit. I moaned again and arched up to press against it a little.

"You see!" Bloomfeld said, sounding aghast. "You see! She's still wanting it."

The cane flexed and sliced against my skin again, sharply, now on the inside of one thigh, now on top of the clit; next inside another thigh, then unexpectedly atop one of my nipples. I moaned and jerked, and I began to tug at my wrist cuffs in earnest. My eyes were closed. I had tears in my eyes, and yet, his hands and Lacey's on my legs, and the cane burning streaks across my skin, were sizzling my nerves, making them dance. I jerked as the cane flicked and the tip landed squarely on top of my clit, and I cried out, my hands finding the sofa's seat, pushing me up a little.

"She's still eager! Tell me," Bloomfeld's face leered over the sofa suddenly, "tell me why it is you're so eager."

I was shuddering. He moved back, and the cane slashed down rapidly in succession on my pussy, over and over, until it burned and throbbed.

"Tell me!" he snapped.

The cane struck again on the clit, and I cried out, "I'm a slut!"

"Yes!" He leaned over the sofa's edge, looking at me, and held up a small belt, showing it to me. I moaned and shook my head.

"Spread this little whore's legs, Lacey." I could hear clinking, then felt her cuffing one ankle, then another. She'd chained each cuff on a short chain to the back of each sofa leg. I was very arched now, my legs very wide, my pussy spread open, vulnerable. Bloomfeld stroked it with his fingers.

"So wet, Lacey. That's a sign of a slut."

"Yes Doctor."

Bloomfeld moved around the sofa and sat in the chair for a moment. He leaned closer to my face. One of his hands held the belt, doubled over, and he idly flicked it back and forth across my nipples. I watched him.

"You knew when I challenged you," he said softly, his eyes gleaming, "that I would punish you if you seduced him."

"Yes sir."

"Of course," Bloomfeld said cheerfully, sitting up in the chair, "you also knew that if you did not seduce him, I'd punish you, too. Well. It's a win-win situation for me anyway you look at it, isn't it?" and with that, he struck me across the breasts with the belt, until my nipples were on fire. He stood and went to the back of the sofa, and I moaned.

He used the belt very well, on the insides of my legs, on my belly, on my clit, on my pussy over and over until I actually shuddered and came and cried out, "Gnngggg" being all I could manage, and the belt smacked down again.

"Can you believe this, Lacey? This little whore just came!" He sounded amazed, but happy. Everything according to his plan.