“I know,” Diane said, “Kiko. Her name will be Kiko.” “Good. I like that. Now little one, your new name is Kiko. Whenever you’re with us, you will be Kiko. Understand?” he asked, smiling down at her. “Yes, Mr. White.” “Oh no, that’s all wrong,” Diane broke in. “You must call us Master and Mistress, for that is who we are. Now what is your name?” she asked, stroking her head. “Kiko, Mistress.” silently and reached out to take the plastic toy, feeling the heat radiating from his hand.
She felt like a small child as she slid her skirt to bunch around her hips, spreading her legs so that she could insert the vibrator. She turned it on, feeling the buzzing hum radiate through her hands, matching the smooth vibrations of the luxury automobile she was within. The whole world took on a strange, removed, air: only she and Mr. White existed in the entire world, she, Mr. White, and this humming, buzzing little stick in her hand.
She glanced down, her vision gliding past her sparse pubic hair to focus on the slightly swollen lips of her labia, the juices of recent intercourse shining between her legs. She slowly moved the vibrator until its side touched her outer labia. She felt it spread a delicious numbness through her groin, and she slid it up and down her crack, now staring out the window at the cars moving like dream shapes along the highway with them.
Too sensitive! and her hand jerked back as the vibrator touched her clitorus. She looked over at Mr. White, saw him watching her out of the corner of his eyes, and opened her mouth to ask a question. “Mr. White…?” “Don’t worry, Terry, you’ve still got your job. Your duties have just been…expanded.” Now he was staring directly at her hands and crotch, watching the way she gently ran the vibrator along and between her labia.
“And if you do a good job, in both your new responsibilities as well as your old ones, you might even make partner by the end of the year.” The words stunned her, and almost unconscously her hands pressed the vibrator deep into her vagina, and she gasped at the pleasure of it.
Her mind was both stunned and awhirl: she couldn’t believe any of this was happening to her-it was like a strange hallucination; and she had thought about fucking her way to the top-no moral or personal qualms there-but this was ridiculous. What was Mr. White’s plan for her? the question crystalizing in her mind as she felt the growing pleasure her hands and the vibrator were bringing her.
It was so…obscene…twisted…what she was doing now, in a car, with her boss sitting right beside her, watching. She shuddered. Why? She was to be a sex toy, but she was also to keep her job; how did that fit? And an offer of partnership, but only if she was good at both whoring and lawyering? She was confused; she didn’t understand it. Her mind slipped from these subjects as the pleasure in her groin grew.
She began gently stroking her clitorus with her fingers as she swirled the vibrator inside herself, soft moans now escaping her lips. She leaned her head back on the cushioned head rest and closed her eyes, concentrating totally on the sensations coming from her vagina. She teased herself, aware of the command not to bring herself to orgasm-how strange, she thought, the care she took not to bring herself to a point she had never reached before tonight.
She was brought out of her sexual daze when she felt the car come to a halt, and she lazily lifted up her head to look over at Mr. White. She saw his eyes rivited on her exposed groin, and a similtaneous blush of shame and pleasure suffused her whole body. “Get out of the car,” he commanded. Carefully she opened the car door, removing the vibrator and switching it off.
She stepped out onto the driveway, her legs weak and rubbery from unfulfilled lust, and looked up at a gorgeous victorian mansion. She stared at it, taking in its magnificence, until she felt Mr. White take the vibrator dangling from her hand and place it into his breast pocket. “Come.” Terry followed him, the pavement hard beneath her feet-what had happened to the rest of her clothes, she wondered idly: probably thrown away by Ted, Ted her body shuddered.
Through a large atrium, turn left down a long hallway lined with doors, through one of the doors down stairs to a small room with a couch and a television and a door. The door is locked, and unlocking it into a short hallway with another locked door, opening into a bright, huge, she could only describe it as a paradise.
Ferns grew along the walls, pushing out toward the center of the room, full spectrum heat lamps making the room muggy with a slight mist spraying from mirrored walls and ceilings onto the plants every few minutes. Italian tile, a deep, rich green, covered the floor, leading to a pond-a swimming pool-in the center of the room. Surrounding the pool large pillows of every color lay spread about, with glittering silver chains and leather cuffs and strands here and there.
A table between the far wall and the pool held a dizzying array of fruit and jams and honeys: large strawberries piled haphazardly in a bowl spilling onto the table, crowding green and red and yellow melons, sliced into thin cresent moon wedges, aside. Grapes, small and large, green and red, lay scattered among bowls of apricot and peach, strawberry and apple jams, and slender, small caraffs filled with amber honey sticking their necks above rolling apples.
Kiwis, sliced open to reveal their sparkling green flesh, and cubes of dull yellow mango interwove themselves into this tapestry, and other fruits too, fruits she could not name but which looked cool and sweet and pleasant. A cooling breeze blew from somewhere, swirling about, breaking up the humidity of the room, and a movement from across the room caught her eye. Adam and Eve, her mind immediately thought, but no. She stood stock still, her feet beaded with the dampness of the tiles, Mr.
White slightly behind her to her right, while the two most beautiful people she had ever seen raised themselves from a pile of pillows and began to cross the room toward her. The man was about 6’1″ with dark hair, short and in a gentle wave, and the face and body of Adonis. Dark eyes stared piercingly out of a strong, masculine face, a face with strong lines and a sharp nose.
His chest was broad, his arms muscular, his stomach a board of rippling muscles stepping down to a trim waist and large, strong thighs and calves. Embarrassed, her eyes skipped past his naked manhood. The woman was maybe 5’9″ and an Aphrodite to match his Adonis. Dark blonde hair, wet and matted like an otter’s skin, hung down her back to her waist.
A large forehead, large, languid blue eyes, a soft, round nose, high cheekbones, and full red lips arranged as if by a master painter (no, not Picasso) make up her face, and her body was even more beautiful. Wide, strong shoulders-swimmer’s shoulders-narrowed to a firm chest and outthrusting breasts topped by small, dark red nipples. Her waist was narrow and her stomach flat, the skin sliding smoothly across the muscles underneath.