Rosie: Hospitality at Work

It is the end of an ordinary week at work which I have spent doing ordinary jobs for familiar faces in a building with a broken air conditioner. Looking at my boss' diary I see that he has only one appointment left so should be returning to the office any minute. The building is quiet, so I lean back in my chair and take a big swig of water, eyes, closed, enjoying the silence, rubbing the cold cup against my neck to cool down.

A cough.

Opening my eyes I fall off my chair in shock onto my hands and knees on the floor. Looking up I see you laughing down at me, as I ineffectively dab at the water, which has spilt all over my blouse, with a tissue.

"Mr Rain?" I ask, and you nod. "Please take a seat, Mr Green won't be long now, he had a meeting the other side of town but I'm expecting him back soon."

You nod and sit down, relaxed, confident, sprawled, one ankle resting on the opposite knee casually. I go to finish typing a letter, but don't get more than a couple of lines finished before the phone rings. It's Mr Green, he tells me there's a family emergency and he can't get back that evening to see you. I put him on the phone to you and you chat for a minute, then give me a thoughtful look, before handing back the mouthpiece. Mr Green says he hopes I don't mind, but he's offered that I look after you for your visit to town. "No problem Sir" I say and hang up, looking over to you. "Well, what do you fancy then, Mr Rain?"

"I fancy a drink. What's your name?"

"Rosie"

"Then I'd like a drink Rosie, something cold."

"Coming right up." I wriggle through from reception area into Mr Green's office, to the drinks cabinet where the fridge is kept. It's not full, just some champagne and some gin & tonic. I pull out the gin and the champagne and turn round to find you in the doorway watching me again. I am uncomfortably aware of the lack of length of my skirt, and decide to make a joke of it.

"Sorry, was I flashing at you there? Which would you prefer?"

"I'd prefer fucking a curvy slut to flashing."

I blink and laugh. "Fair enough. But I've got champagne or G&T. It's up to you."

"Then put the champagne on ice."

"Coming right up." I turn to put it in the ice-bucket from the freezer, and when I turn round again you are so close I feel I could dive right into your blue eyes. "Now, what should I call you? Mr Rain? Sir? I don't know your first name I'm afraid."

"Then call me Master"

"After five minutes of your company? I don't think so. Why would I want to do that?"

"Because," you say, suddenly lifting me onto my boss' desk, "you are a curvy slut who needs one. Now you heard what your boss said, so be a good girl and look after me."

"I think, Sir, he was talking about taking on a tour of the city and for a meal."

"That later. Right now we're both need something wet. Which," you say, sliding your hand up my skirt, "you are. Now stay there while I get a couple of glasses." But there are none to be found, and you bring the bottle over, smoking like a gun. "Well Rosie, I think you must be a very bad slut, to have no glasses for your boss. We'll just have to drink from the bottle. Here, slut, drink."

"Perhaps I will end up calling you Master. Then again perhaps not." I smile at you, take a swig and blink, the bubbles tickling my nose. I can feel an instant rush to my head, and gasp. You swig too, and hand it back. Every time I drink you call me names, whore, cunt, tart, bitch, and they with the bubbles have the room swaying round me, though the only thing I can call you is Sir.

In remarkably quick time the bottle is nearly done. I reach for it but you hold it out of my reach. "ah ah ah! Now I want you lying on your front over the desk."

I carefully turn, very unsteady now. You kick my legs apart wide. I try to peek round to see what you're doing, but you slap my face back with the back of your hand, "Keep still you whoring slut". I feel you sliding down my skirt and stroking my thighs. Purring I enjoy the feeling in the evening sunshine, but you slap my ass and tell me to concentrate.

"On what, Shir?" And then I feel your finger stroking my cunt, checking how aroused I am. You're laughing, a cruel laugh, and I desperately want to feel you filling me up. But it's not your cock that strokes my lips next, but the rim of the bottle, very firm and strong. You slide it deep inside, mingling my juices with the champagne and slide it in, out, in, out, in, out, until I'm screaming for you. Then you withdraw again and walk round the other side of the desk. You undo your trousers and I see your cock firm in front of me. "Suck me you filthy dirty whore". And I do, wondering at myself, at your power over me, at how much I love it. But again, just before coming you withdraw and spurt all over my surprised face. Carefully you wipe off your own cum and wipe it on the neck of the bottle, so you have a mix of champagne and both our cum.

"Kneel on the floor, bitch." And again I do with great difficulty, hoping I don't collapse from the champagne. You offer me the neck of the bottle and I go to take it, but you say "no hands slut, just drink." Looking up at you I take it in my mouth, and you see me drinking my cum and yours together.

"Good slut," you whisper, "good slut. Now, get dressed and straighten up, I want to take you out with me and no-one must know." You help me up and I get dressed, to defeat the watchful eyes of the office women.

The lift is empty as we get in on the top floor. You stand me in next to you, close, and I am grateful for the support until I feel you parting my skirt at the back with your hand. I start to giggle, but then stop abruptly as more people get in the lift. But you don't stop, you keep going and I find it hard to focus on the people who say hello to me.

As we get to the bottom floor I move to wriggle away from you, but instead you say "Rosie, I don't have my jacket, we'll have to go back up for it." I silently shake with laughter as the rest of the lift empties and we start the climb back up.

"Sir!" I protest, "my thighs are soaking again, they're wetting my stocking tops".

"That's because you're a horny slut who wants it bad…."

I look back at you. "So, shall we go back to the office and dry them, then?"

"Dry them then what?"

"Dry them then, Sir"

"No I don't think so you whore, you'll just get wet again. I can see you getting wetter and wetter every time I stroke you or look at you."

I swallow, for it's true. Then the lift doors open again on the top floor and one of the company execs gets in. "Hey, how ya doin'? I haven't seen you for months?"

As you make polite conversation your hand never leaves my ass, exploring deeper and deeper, and I grip the lift rail so hard my knuckles turn white to distract myself. Suddenly I realise you're both looking at me and I haven't a clue what you've said. "Mmmm, pardon, sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about something else."

You look down at me. "What were you thinking about Rosie?"

I gulp. "Oh you know, new places to explore, sensations to discover… it is summer, after all."

"Right. Mr Fairlie was just asking where we were going to eat tonight. What do you think?"

"Tapas, maybe? Perhaps finger food, nice and light in this weather?"

"Very sensual, yes I like the idea of that."

I blush and go quiet until we're down at the bottom. You stop rubbing and instead pat my ass, and I go to walk ahead of you out of the building, but you cough at me, and I realise I should show more respect, should follow behind you. But that suits me fine because then I can watch your ass this time.

Outside the air is no cooler, and we set off down the street until we get to the café district of town. You find one that appeals to you, don't bother to check with me, and taking my hand lead me in. Inside the café is full of intimate booths, with white muslin hangings separating the tables for privacy.

I sit across from you demurely, knees and ankles together and hear you order for us.

"Come sit next to me Rosie."

I laugh and shake my head. "I don't think so Sir, you'll just turn me on more."

"Come sit next to me Rosie my slut."

"Sir, please"

"Fucking move your cunt, you whore! Want me to say it louder? Do what you're fucking told!"

I move.

You run your finger down my cheek, round my jawbone, so that I half-close my eyes with pleasure as you whisper in my ear. "Now listen to me Rosie you slut, I'm only going to tell you things once from now on. Take off your thong. Thank you, I'll take that. Now your skirt." SLAP! "Concentrate slut! Do it now."

With difficulty I ease down my skirt, it's very tight, and wiggle it down to the floor. All I am wearing is my blouse, suspenders and stockings, but there is a tablecloth to cover me from view. "Better Sir?"

"Watch it, slut, don't get cheeky." Idly taking an ice-cube from my drink you run it randomly over my thighs round and round as I curl my toes up, down, higher, higher still, until my eyes are wide. "Spread 'em, whore."

I gulp and open wider, then further still when you dig your nails into my soft thighs, and then sure enough I feel the ice burning my cunt, you pushing it in deep before shutting my thighs again.

"Is that good, Rosie?"

"No Sir, it's fucking cold."

You burst out laughing. "That's good then, because this will warm you up."

The waitress is here with our order, a big sizzle-platter of chilli and chicken. I look at you in disbelief. "We are eating this, right?"

Your voice is dangerous, singsong almost. "You're forgetting your manners, Rosie my slut. Now open wide."

"My mouth, Sir?"

"Yes Rosie, your mouth, that's how we eat." And you feed me the first of them, and let me suck sour cream off your fingers. I feed you too, and soon we're licking each other and biting, tugging each other's fingers and sharing meat like dogs. You push me down onto my back and I wrap my legs round your waist. You smear guacamole in my cleavage, licking it out slowly as I stay as quiet as I can whilst being so aroused. And then suddenly I'm kicking my stockinged legs as you've sneaked an opened Jalapeno up into my cunt "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck fuck that's fucking sore fuck fuck fuck fuck" and you're pinning me down, one hand over my mouth as I curse you and writhe.

"Want some sour cream, slut? Make it feel better?"

"Fuck, please Sir, fuck fuck fuck"

"Well you're not getting a drop if you use language like that……"

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

"Now Rosie, if you talk like that you know I'm going to have to punish you."

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck I thought you were, Sir!" Deep breath, though shaking still. "Sir …. please …..can … I … have …. some ….. sour …. cream?"

You laugh and pick up the pot, take a dod on your finger and hold it up for me to see, while I'm biting my lip to stop swearing. "No" you say, and lick it off yourself, leaving me to struggle in front of you, frustrated.

Then suddenly you change your mind and I feel the cream on my cunt, so soothing, so good, as you rub it in for me. I groan with relief.

"Get under the table you whore."

"Yes Sir" I say, and start to get dressed, but you kick the skirt out of my way.

"Just fucking suck me off, slut. And make sure there are no chillies left in your mouth, or you'll regret it."

I begin to undress you and see your cock waiting for me. I lick it along the whole length and it quivers and rises, making me laugh with pleasure. I lick round the head, it seems to appreciate that too. A hear a waiter approaching and freeze, but you push my head down on you, and I think yeah what the hell, we both want this so bad. I begin to get into a rhythm of thrusting deep, deep, into my throat but then you yank me back by my hair.

"You fucking bitch, get up!" You're reaching for the cream for yourself now, and soon an expression of relief covers your face. I'm trying not to laugh, but you see me. "You think that was funny, whore, burning my cock? You did that on purpose?"

I shake my head, scared now. "No Sir, it was an accident, really, I'm so sorry, please don't punish me?"

"You burnt my fucking cock, what do you expect? Go wait outside for me."

"I'm so sorry Sir, it was an accident, really!" Once more I reach for my skirt.

You hand is there first. "Go, Rosie, and wait outside, I'll be with you when I'm ready."

"May I have my skirt, Sir?"

"No, you may not, bitch. NOW DO WHAT I FUCKING TELL YOU!"

I nod and wriggle across the floor in my heels, stockings and a shirt that barely covers my ass. People stare but I just look ahead and walk to the door.

Outside I lean back into the shadows. After what feels like hours I see you appear and I click forward to meet you. You toss me my skirt and I wriggle back into it quickly in the shadows.

Now I am decent again I quickly brush my wavy hair, and we head off again together into the night.