Tasha looked miserably at the ground, her face turning bright red.

“Tasha, do you recognize any of these things?” said Miss Pickering.

Tasha did recognize them — the pornographic magazines had been hidden under her mattress.

“Yes, Miss Pickering.”

“Which items do you recognize? Pick them up and give them to me.”

Trembling, Tasha walked over to the desk and picked up the paddle and cane, handing them to Miss Pickering.

“That’s all you recognize, Tasha?”

Tasha looked up nervously.

“Yes, Miss Pickering. That’s all I recognize.”

Miss Pickering looked the girl up and down.

“Tasha,” said Miss Pickering. “Lift your skirt and take down your panties.”

Face reddening more than ever, Tasha obeyed, as she had many times before. But never with Miss Pickering. Never here, in her office, with a bare-bottomed birching awaiting her.

She lifted her short plaid skirt and wriggled her bottom as she took her panties down her thighs and let them fall to the floor around her ankles.

“Give them to me,” said Miss Pickering.

Tasha stepped out of her panties and handed them to Miss Pickering.

“What the hell are these?” asked Miss Pickering. “Tasha, these are contraband. You were issued a G-string upon induction here –”

“It goes up my butt!” blurted Tasha.

“As a G-string is meant to,” snapped Miss Pickering, raising her voice. “Tasha, from now on you will go without panties each day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha dejectedly.

“Now lift your skirt again and show me your bottom. And spread your legs as you do it.”

Tasha obeyed, leaning forward over Miss Pickering’s desk as she lifted her skirt just enough to present her bare bottom to the angered schoolmarm. This placed the stack of pornographic magazines well within her gaze. She could feel the familiar heat inside her beginning as she surveyed the top magazine, one called “BACK DOOR WHORES,” with its naked blond on her hands and knees, ass in the air, with garish legends promising “MAJOR BUTT ACTION!” and “SLUTS WHO WANT IT!”

Am I a slut who wants it? wondered Tasha to herself as the heat grew inside her.

Miss Pickering tsked as she ran her fingers over Tasha’s naked ass. Then she reached between Tasha’s legs and felt her pussy.

“Shameful,” said Miss Pickering. “You’ll get 10 strokes. Count them.”

“Yes, Miss Pickering.”

Tasha’s eyes filled with tears as she awaited the first blow. She had been caned before, but never by a true sadist like Miss Pickering. All the girls knew Miss Pickering was the one who would truly hurt your bottom, would make it black and blue and make you cry.

Tasha was crying already.

The first blow struck with the sizzling heat of a wildfire. Tasha squirmed and moaned “One,” but did not drop her skirt. Then another blow came, and Tasha chirped “Two!” with a pained tremble to her voice. Then another, “Three!” and another, “Four, oh, oh, oh, ow, ow, ow!” each one cutting into her with fierce pain. Finally, on the fifth stroke, Tasha gasped and moaned “F — five — !” as the pain of the blow settled into her bottom; she slumped forward and threw herself across Miss Pickering’s desk, her face now pressed to the porno magazines, so close she could smell the rank scent of their well-used pages, many of which were stuck together. She could also smell the sharpness of the well-serviced butt-plug, which had not been washed since the last time it was used.

Miss Pickering lifted the hem of Tasha’s skirt with the end of the cane. It had fallen down when she had slumped forward over the desk.

“Tasha, if you can’t keep your skirt lifted,” said Miss Pickering, “then take it off.”

“Miss Pickering?” gasped Tasha through her pain.

“Take it off! And spread your legs for the rest of your punishment.”

Chastised, Tasha unzipped her skirt and let it fall in a plaid pool at her feet. She stepped out of it and spread her legs again, but the bottom of her blouse hung as low as her behind. Tasha knew what was coming.

“The blouse, too,” said Miss Pickering. “Take off your blouse.”

Tasha obeyed, looking at Miss Pickering sheepishly as she exposed her breasts to the woman’s gaze.

Miss Pickering eyed the fetching fullness of Tasha’s bosom. “No bra, Tasha?”

“No, Miss Pickering.”

“Tsk, tsk,” said Miss Pickering. “Now bend over my desk.”

Tasha obeyed, leaning heavily against the desk and spreading her legs, her pert bottom now fully exposed, her face pressed hard against the pornographic magazines as she drank in their smell and that of the butt plug, also close by. Her nipples hardened against the cold wood of the desk as she prepared to be birched again.

The next blow came, and Tasha’s whole body, now naked except for her Mary Janes, twisted and writhed as she whimpered “Six.” Another blow, and she moaned “Seven,” her ass lifting higher in the air and wriggling back and forth as she struggled and tried not to cry out. Still another blow, and she yelped in pain, only half managing to annunciate the word “Eight!” With each blow, angry red stripes appeared on her pale bottom to complement those that were already there. When Miss Pickering landed blows nine and 10, she did it so fast Tasha had to count them both at the same time. Just like that: whack-whack, first across one pert cheek of her bottom, then the other, in a crosswise tangle of agony as Tasha burst into tears, weeping: “Nine! 10! Oh God oh God oh God…”

“Tasha!” snapped Miss Pickering. “What did I tell you about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Pickering.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” said Miss Pickering with a sneer. “Apologize to the baby Jesus.”

Tasha raised her eyes skyward, taking a deep sniff of the rank-smelling magazines before saying “I’m sorry, baby Jesus.”

Miss Pickering put her hand on Tasha’s bum again, running her fingers first over the angry red stripes she had just placed there, then over the faded, purpled ones — three days old, she estimated, and the more faded, yellowish ones — perhaps a week or more.

“Tasha, how did you sneak the cane into your room?”

“I slipped it into the back of my blouse and put it down my skirt, and walked very upright back to my room,” said Tasha nervously.

“I assume Corinna was involved?”

“She used it on me,” said Tasha. “But I didn’t use it on her.”

“She’s still very naughty. Tasha, you know that all punishment at this institution is to be approved by the teachers. You remember why your punishments were withheld, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha. “I was giggling in class.”

“That’s why I’ve prepared this stack of pornographic magazines for you. They’ve all been well used. You are to study each and every page of those magazines after lights-out, Tasha, with that butt-plug inserted. It belonged to Cassidy, but she’s an advanced student; she doesn’t need it any more. And you will touch yourself while you do it, Tasha, rub yourself until you come. Perhaps that will teach you not to giggle during a pornographic slideshow about the proper technique for receiving anal sex.”

“Yes, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha.

Miss Pickering’s hand traveled up Tasha’s thigh and gently stroked her pussy, which was so moist it was sending streams of juice down her thighs. Tasha moaned and pushed herself back against Miss Pickering’s hand. Miss Pickering slid two fingers in and began to fingerfuck Tasha as she clawed at the desk, sending anal porno mags scattering everywhere. Thrusts of Miss Pickering’s finger struck Tasha’s G-spot and brought her almost immediately to a thundering, moaning orgasm. As she came, her knees buckled and Miss Pickering had to put her arm around Tasha’s waist to keep her from sliding off the desk and falling to her knees.

When Miss Pickering was done, she placed her fingers very close to Tasha’s face. Tasha licked them clean obediently.

“Do you think it’s acceptable for a 33-year-old woman to giggle when she’s being taught how to take it in her back door?”

“No, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Your husband spent a pretty penny to send you to this program,” said Miss Pickering. “I’d hate to think you weren’t getting the full benefit out of it.”

“Now,” said Miss Pickering. “Behave in class, learn how to take it in the ass like a good little slut, and you’ll get your punishment privileges returned. In the meantime, I hope today’s caning has reminded you how much you want your punishment privileges back. Did that little slut Corinna punish you as well as I did?”

“No, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha.

“From the looks of those stripes on your backside, she certainly didn’t. All haphazard and ill-placed. I bet she didn’t even make you come afterwards.”

“No, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha sadly. “She didn’t.”

“Remember that, the next time you want to circumvent the rules. If you’ve learned your lesson, you’ll end up right back here getting what you want, instead of settling for that roommate of yours.”

“Yes, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha.

“Now get dressed. You’re late for oral sex class.”

“Yes, Miss Pickering,” said Tasha, gathering up her clothes.

From the looks of the spinning machines, Pearl figured that had to be true.

There were a dozen other women scattered about, enough to almost fill the room’s complement of machines. The women stretched and warmed up, bending their limber bodies into improbable positions. Pearl had already stretched.

“Let’s get started,” said the Norwegian with only the slightest trace of an accent. He was a muscled Adonis in a tightly fitting top and shorts that showed off the impressive bulge of his manhood. “My name is Hans. I see we have a new student today. Let’s all say hi to Pearl.”

Pearl blushed a little as the women eyed her with great interest and said “Hi, Pearl” in one musical purr.

“Hi,” said Pearl. “Glad to be here.”

“Now, Pearl, what brought you to my class?” asked Hans.

Pearl blushed deeper and shifted uncomfortably, feeling the eyes of the classroom upon her.

“I heard it was different,” she said.

A giggle rippled through the room, and Hans chuckled.

“That it is,” said Hans. “Well, let’s get started. Everybody choose a machine, and strip.”

Pearl had never undressed fully in a classroom full of women before; in lap dancing class they always wore G-strings. Still, her classmates didn’t show a bit of modesty; with a whir of female flesh, T-shirts, tank tops, gym shorts and tights all ended up folded neatly next to the spinning machines. Pearl nervously removed her sports halter and bicycling shorts. Now nude except for their socks and gym shoes, the women stood obediently by their chosen machines, as if at attention. Hans walked around the room slowly, smiling at each woman before inspecting her, sometimes patting their asses, stroking their bellies, exploring their bodies with his fingers.

“Excellent definition, Miriam,” said Hans to one pert redhead, who blushed and smiled as he fondled her inner thigh. “You’ve really been making progress.”

“Thank you,” Miriam said.

When Hans got to Pearl, his hand went instantly between her legs. She whimpered as he felt her cunt, his brow furrowed in disappointment.

“You’ll definitely need additional lubricant, Pearl,” said Hans. “The machines in the front of the room are self-lubricating, but this one hasn’t been replaced yet. Girls, are any of you wet enough to trade with Pearl?”

“I am,” said Miriam perkily, and hurried over to take Pearl’s machine. Pearl obediently traded with her as she eyed the upright dildo projecting from the seat of the spinning machine Miriam had abandoned. A small slit at the top had already oozed a clear, viscous lubricant over the head, making the penis-shaped device glisten in the fluorescent light. Nonetheless, Pearl eyed the dildo uncomfortably; it was several inches longer and quite a bit thicker than the other one, which Pearl had chosen for its manageable size.

“Not too big for you, is it, Pearl?” asked Hans with a wickedness to his voice.

The room erupted in little titters.

Reddening, Pearl said quickly, “No. It’s just right.”

Hans clapped his hands together and headed to the front of the room. “Everybody mount!”

As the other women climbed onto their machines and, perching with the heads of the dildos at their entrances, easily slid themselves onto the lubricated organs, Pearl climbed onto her own, unsure of how she was going to fit such an enormous cock into her. Pearl was no dim bulb. Now she knew why spinning class was so popular here; each new girl had to undergo this initiation, taking the one machine with an improbably large member, as if to prove she could handle it.

Pearl climbed onto the machine and spread her pussy lips with her finger, positioning her tight opening at the head of the big cock. She winced as she sat down, feeling the enormous head stretch her in a way she’d never been stretched before. She let out a little yelp as the head popped into her, and another round of giggles went through the room. Pearl had to wriggle her body back and forth to force herself down the length of the shaft. When she finally sat atop the dildo, she could feel the head pushing into her cervix, the thick ridges near the base rubbing against her G-spot. Every movement she made brought a fresh pulse of heat to her body. She could feel her nipples stiffening with the stimulation. If I wasn’t lubricated enough before, thought Pearl, I definitely am now.

“All right, girls, let’s start.” Hans hit a button behind the table at the front of the room. It was a curious table, Pearl noticed, looking much like a piece of exercise equipment itself — with stirrups and a cutaway for the legs, almost like a gynecological exam table. Pearl felt a thrill — so it was true what she’d heard about Hans. More than true, from the looks of it.

When Hans hit the button for the sound system, speakers began to pump rhythmic dance music while the TV monitors in the corners of the room flickered to life. The girls in the class started cycling, and with some difficulty Pearl did the same. The throbbing beat of the music was hooked to the vibrators positioned at the base of the dildos, buzzing rhythmically against Pearl’s clit. But, more importantly, every turn of the pedals caused the seat to push up smoothly and then cycle back down, pounding into Pearl’s cunt as surely as if an exceedingly well-hung man were fucking her. It was all she could do to maintain her grip on the handlebars and stare up, slack-jawed, at the pornographic images playing on the TV screens. She whimpered and moaned as she fucked herself. She could hear her classmates moaning softly, as well.

“Now remember to keep up a steady rhythm,” said Hans as he circled the room, patting thighs, feeling bellies. “Feel those muscles work. The vibrators go to the music, but you control how fast your cock is fucking you. Pump faster if you start to get close. Pearl, how are you doing?”

Pearl stared at him, wide-eyed, moaning softly.

“Good,” he said, his hand clenching around her thigh as she worked herself up and down on the rising and falling seat, not quite matching the rhythm with her own, with the result that each thrust hit her harder. “You’re really working those quads,” said Hans. “Good going. Pearl, you’re going to do great in my class.”

“Th — thank — you,” she tried to say, her eyes rolling back in her head as she pedaled faster.

“All right,” said Hans. “We’re going uphill. Get ready to work!”

The pedals began to resist more, and Pearl urgently pushed harder, moaning “Oh, God, oh God” so that the rest of the room giggled. As the speed of the dildo fucking her started to slow, Pearl pedaled faster to keep it going.

Hans paused again in front of his newest student. “Pearl looks like she’s close already,” he said. “Now, remember what happens to the first one who comes? We’ve got a special prize for her. And girls — no faking!”

Pearl desperately pumped her thighs, making the dildo pound her hard as she pulsed toward orgasm. The intensity of the vibrator at her clit increased, and within moments Pearl was moaning uncontrollably, her whole naked body rocking back and forth atop the dildo as it fucked her in time with her body’s own movements.

Suddenly, Miriam let out a piercing groan and screamed “I’m coming, I’m coming!” at the top of her lungs. Pearl was almost too far gone to hear it, but she dimly recognized Hans’ voice: “Come on, now, Miriam! You’ll have to fake it better than that if you want to win!”

Miriam looked down, chastised as the other girls giggled at her.

Meanwhile, Pearl was unaware of Miriam’s attempt at deception; the newest member of Hans’ spinning class was perched on her dildo, pinching her own nipples, throwing her head back and shuddering all over as she edged toward an intense climax. The other girls in class watched her, and Hans stood stock-still in front of her, saying “Good girl, good girl, feel the burn, work those muscles — you’re doing great, Pearl…”

When she finally came, loudly, screaming at the top of her lungs as the pleasure exploded through her naked body. She shuddered and slumped forward against the handlebars, her ass raised high on the top stroke of the dildo as her feet slipped off the pedals and she hung there in midair, suspended only by the dildo.

The room broke out in applause. Hans ran to the front of the room and turned off the music, and the girls stopped cycling. Hans stripped off his shirt and dropped his shorts, revealing a huge cock rendered quite hard by recent events.

“All right, girls, it looks like our new student is the winner today! Miriam, Susie, get her down from there and put her on the table. Face up or face down, Pearl?”

Pearl just moaned incoherently as Susie and Miriam lifted her, with some difficulty, off the machine. They carried her up to the table at the front of the room, where Pearl eyed Hans’s cock with sudden interest. It was even bigger than the dildo on her machine. Surely such a mammoth thing couldn’t fit inside her.

Pearl’s eyes flickered up to Hans’ face, admiring the finely chiseled Nordic features and the wicked smile he gave her. He winked at her as he stroked his cock up and down, and Pearl thought she saw a jealous glance from Miriam, a glance that flickered from Hans’ hard cock to Pearl’s lucky pussy. Pearl looked at the huge organ and decided yes, it certainly could fit inside her pussy, or at least she would make a rapturous attempt to find out.

“Face up, please,” she said with a moan, spreading her legs onto the edges of the table as Miriam and Susie laid her across it, her ass right at the edge of the cutaway so that her pussy was quite exposed and accessible. Hans came toward her with his cock in his hand.

Pearl’s cunt was wet and slick from the self-lubricating dildo, but the feel of Hans’s cockhead stroking gently up and down her slit made it juice even more. He was certainly well-trained himself; rather than taking her immediately, he worked his cock from her slick entrance up to her hard clit, teasing it and making her moan for his cock, begging for it with her eyes. Hans looked down at her, clearly satisfied with himself in that way that only personal trainers can be.

“Please,” Pearl begged. “Fuck me!”

The sound of small giggles shimmered through the room; Pearl suspected that every woman in here had, at some point, been on this very table being teased by Hans, begging for it. But Hans was in no rush; he let go of his cock and worked his hips to slide it up and down in Pearl’s slit without entering her, reaching up to place his hands on her small, high breasts and pinch her nipples as he tantalized her. Soon Pearl was moaning uncontrollably, her hips working hungrily and matching the strokes of Hans’s cockhead up and down her — and when he entered her, his enormous cockhead stretching her opening and then popping neatly inside with a pulse of sensation, Pearl came almost immediately, arching her back and clawing at the table, climaxing with a loud cry of ecstasy as Hans’s massive cock slid deep inside her. He began to fuck her rhythmically with great, rapid thrusts of his quadriceps, pushing his cock into her into her so that even if she had wanted to stop coming, she couldn’t have. She soared high on the orgasm — 30 seconds, 40 — and then she was pressed up against him, her ass pulled forward on the table, her arms around his neck as she pressed her face to his muscled chest. Hans lifted her fully off the table and all but bounced her up and down on his cock, his hands on her ass lifting her and dropping her down, the full weight of Pearl’s body ramming her down onto his thickness so that he filled her with new vigor each time. He met the downward strokes of her body with the upward strokes of his hips, and the power of his thrusts drove Pearl toward another orgasm as her classmates cheered.

When Pearl came for the third time, whoops and applause burst out all through the room. The sounds were almost drowned out by the great thunderous groan from Hans’s massive chest — he was about to come.

“In my mouth,” mewled Pearl as she pressed her face close to his ear. “Please, do it in my mouth.”

Planting his hands firmly on her ass and digging his fingers in — in a way that made Pearl’s thighs tug against her clit — Hans lifted Pearl bodily off of his cock, setting her down on her knees like a china teacup before him. Her mouth was on his cock immediately, barely able to get around the enormous head. The taste of her own pussy only made her hungrier for his come. He just fucked me with this cock, thought Pearl, her clit swelling anew as she realized it. It tastes like me. She reached down and stroked her wet slit eagerly as she sucked him, her legs spread just wide enough to allow her easy access as she fingered herself.

She suckled Hans’s huge cockhead eagerly. Hans uttered a loud roar and thrust his hips forward, working his cockhead deeper into Pearl’s mouth, deep enough that she had to open wide to take it. His hot come jetted out and struck the back of her throat; she gulped eagerly as Hans steadied himself on her shoulders and drove his hips in wide circles, Pearl riding him with her mouth so that each stream of come pumped out into her mouth and went down her eager throat.

When Hans had let himself go in her mouth, Her lips came glistening off of Hans’s cockhead, not a drop of semen having been missed. Pearl offered Hans’s shaft one gentle kiss, tasting her pussy once more. She slid her hand out of her cunt and licked her fingers clean as Hans watched with pleasure, and the room burst out in applause and cheers. again.

“Well,” said Hans, his voice trembling from his intense orgasm. “As you’ll see, Pearl is multi-orgasmic, so class could get pretty interesting from now on. Don’t forget those quad exercises, ladies, and remember your Kegels!”

Pearl’s classmates began to dress. She walked with some difficulty back to her machine and picked up her shorts and sports halter. Her hand went automatically around the huge dildo, still lubricated with her cunt and its own prodigious mechanical secretions. The feel of the huge thing in her hand sent a fresh shiver through her.

She turned to Hans, who had slipped on his shorts and was pulling his shirt over his head.

“I don’t suppose the room’s free,” she said breathlessly.

“Until the next class,” said Hans with a grin. “In 45 minutes.”

Moaning softly, Pearl climbed back onto the spinning machine and began to feel the burn.

“That’s right,” she said, shifting in her chair.

“That’s quite a prestigious job for someone right out of college,” said Mr. Tully. “How did you come to hold that position?”

Sitting in front of Mr. Tully’s desk, Aurora Blackwell brushed her hand down the front of her close-fitting suit jacket, her scarlet-painted nails drawing Mr. Tully’s hand to the swell of her bosom.

“Yes, well, I believe I interviewed quite well.”

“How so?”

“The interview was between myself and Mr. Handwell, the senior partner in that firm. He was quite moved by my oral interview.”

Mr. Tully swallowed nervously as Aurora fixed him with her big blue eyes and pursed her red-painted lips, letting her tongue laze out just for an instant. Opening her mouth, she drew her tongue around in a small circle around the edge of her lips.

“How… how exactly did you… excel at this interview?” asked Mr. Tully.

“Rather than answering his questions, I undressed.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes,” said Ms. Blackwell, unbuttoning her jacket. “Then, of course, I took care of him.”

“Took care of him?”

Aurora smiled, her eyes locked in Mr. Tully’s.

She slipped off her jacket and let her hands travel down the length of her body. She began to gather her skirt in her hands and lift it up her thighs, revealing the lace tops of her black stockings and the clasps of her garters. The desk blocked Mr. Tully’s view, so he leaned forward and looked down over the edge as Aurora’s hands went under her raised skirt and came down gracefully holding her panties.

“I think you know what I mean,” said Aurora, reaching over and placing her panties on Mr. Tully’s desk.

“I see you wear your panties outside your garters,” said Mr. Tully sternly.

“It makes it easier to seduce the boss. I got a lot of practice at Handwell, Davis and Cox, since of course Mr. Handwell wasn’t the only one to interview me.”

“I see,” said Mr. Tully, his eyes roving hungrily over Aurora as her hands began to delicately pluck at the buttons of her blouse. She slowly opened the cream-colored garment, revealing the lacy black bra that, earlier, Mr. Tully had noticed was quite visible through the light-colored blouse. Now he knew why.

“Mr. Davis, in particular, demanded daily blowjobs. The other two were satisfied with three or four times a week.” The blouse went slipping off Aurora’s arms and pooled on the floor behind her chair. The black bra cupped her breasts firmly, cut low enough to reveal her nipples — which Mr. Tully had also taken note of earlier.

“Those are really quite impressive,” said Mr. Tully. “Did you pay for those with your exorbitant salary?”

“Please, Mr. Tully. I’m insulted.” Aurora unfastened the front clasp of the bra and eased the flimsy lace off of her breasts. “Six figures doesn’t go nearly as far as it used to.”

Mr. Tully’s eyes roved over Aurora’s naked breasts. He cleared his throat as she began to tease her nipples, pinching them with her fingers and rubbing them with her open palms as her tongue made an inviting circle around her bright red lips.

Mr. Tully glanced down at her resume. “Yes, yes, of course it doesn’t. I… I see that during your tenure in Marketing at Handwell, Davis and Cox, you increased their clients from 30 to 75. Your resume says you did it without spending one dollar on advertising. How exactly did you achieve that?”

“I think you know,” said Aurora.

Aurora smiled, pinching her nipples and whimpering slightly.

“I… I can hazard a guess,” said Mr. Tully.

“And you’d be right. It’s amazing how desperate businessmen can get. Sometimes just a handjob would do it, but usually I went all the way. More because I wanted to than because I had to.”

She pinched her nipples harder, moaned softly, then slid her hand down her body and let it vanish under her raised skirt. She gasped as her hand worked between her legs. She brought it out glistening with her juices, then leaned forward on the edge of the desk and extended her hand to Mr. Tully’s mouth.

His lips hung slack as she slipped her fingers between them. She drew her slick fingers in a circle around his lips, then eased her middle finger deep into his mouth.

“Could you say no to that pussy, Mr. Tully?”

“H… how were these… clients… referred to you?”

Aurora withdrew her hand, then stood up and unzipped her skirt. She began to wriggle out of it, her slim hips making bewitching motions back and forth as her tits jiggled with the effort. When the exceedingly tight skirt finally made it over her hips, Mr. Tully stared, wide-eyed, at the smooth-shaved mound of Aurora’s pussy.

“Webcam,” she said, eagerly stroking her moist slit.

“Webcam?”

Aurora began to come around the side of the desk, taking her time, sauntering. Her impossibly high heels made her tower over the small accountant as she approached him. Her hips swayed back and forth, mesmerizing Mr. Tully as the scent of her pussy reached his nostrils.

“If you’ll visit the Handwell web site, you’ll see I’m still archived there.” She leaned over Mr. Tully, putting one knee on his thigh and just nudging his hard cock with it. Mr. Tully leaned back obediently as Aurora jiggled his mouse, called up his web browser, and typed in a URL, the painful slowness of it indicating that a typing test was not part of the interview process at Handwell, Davis and Cox.

A window popped up and began to play a clip of a slightly younger Aurora, legs spread and wearing a pair of shimmering silver nipple clamps, using one hand to fuck herself while she used the other to punch numbers into a ten-key adding machine. The sound quality was low, but Mr. Tully could hear the chattering of the adding machine printer mingling with Aurora’s moans of orgasm.

Aurora drew back from the keyboard and slid into Mr. Tully’s lap, straddling him, legs spread wide and pussy grinding against his cock through his $19 dress pants. She put her arms around his head and cradled him tenderly, her lips very close to his now.

“You’d be amazed how many CFOs cruise the Net for free porn,” she cooed.

“I… I wouldn’t know about that,” he said.

“Of course not,” said Aurora, her mouth barely touching Mr. Tully’s, her tongue teasing his lower lip. She reached out with one hand and hit the link at the bottom of the webcam page — her resume popped up. “That’s why you called me.”

Mr. Tully looked like he was about to say something; she shut him up with her mouth planted hard on his. Her tongue slid into him and he moaned softly as she ground her pussy against the bulge of his cock.

“God, how I adore polyester,” she moaned, and slid off Mr. Tully’s lap and onto her knees.

She had his pants open in ten seconds and his cock in her mouth in another two. Mr. Tully’s eyes widened as her lips and tongue glided up and down on his shaft; when she drew off his cock, her mouth dripping, strings of spit running from lips to cockhead, she moaned “Fuck me. Fuck me from behind.”

She shimmered up the length of Mr. Tully’s body, planted one black high heel in between his legs and pushed his wheeled office chair back. She turned around and leaned heavily on his desk, brushing her panties onto the floor. She raised her ass, legs spread, hand between her legs and parting her lips.

Mr. Tully leapt off the chair, his pants going rumpled down his legs and making him waddle as he approached Ms. Blackwell from behind. He entered her in a hard thrust, and she moaned uncontrollably as she pushed herself back onto his cock. He rutted wildly into her as she pumped her pussy up and down on Mr. Tully’s long shaft, meeting each uncertain thrust of his with a determined one of her own. In moments, she was panting heavily.

“I’m going to come,” she moaned. “Reach under me and stroke my clit, Mr. Tully! If you make me come, you can hire me!”

Without thinking, Mr. Tully reached his hand under Aurora and began to stroke her clit. She came in an instant, clawing at the desk, her ass lifting in great shuddering movements as Mr. Tully pounded her until he came himself, deep inside her.

Mr. Tully slid out of her and collapsed back into his chair, breathing hard.

Ms. Blackwell straightened herself up, walked around the edge of the desk, and gathered her clothes. She slid the skirt over her head, not bothering with her panties, and slipped on her blouse without the bra, while Mr. Tully watched, rapt.

“You’ve got the job,” he squeaked. “I’ll give you 20,000 more than you were making at Handwell!”

Aurora used her long-nailed hand to cover a small yawn.

“I’ve got a few more interviews,” she said. “I’ll let you know by the end of the week.”

“40,000!”

Aurora came around the desk again, sat in Mr. Tully’s lap, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“50,000,” he said weakly.

“Thank you very much for seeing me, Mr. Tully,” said Aurora. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Wait,” said Mr. Tully, taking her hand. “I… I have one more question.”

Aurora sighed petulantly. “The interview is over,” she said. Then, eyes narrowing, she said, “All right, Mr. Tully. One more question.”

“Why did you leave Handwell?”

Aurora drew Mr. Tully’s face between her breasts, now quite visible, braless, through the sheer blouse.

“Ambition, Mr. Tully. Naked, shameless ambition.”

Aurora stood up in one fluid movement and sauntered out of the office, leaving her bra and panties scattered moist across the office floor.

The lights are down low, with that cheesy disco-ball we bought at the thrift store sending little filaments of light all over the room. She starts the music. I’m sitting on the couch. When she enters the room, I’m mesmerized.

I’ve never seen this outfit before; she bought it especially for tonight. It’s a shimmering metallic red bikini, tiny and tight on her, making her breasts spill out, nothing more than a string up the crack of her ass. There’s a cheesy little heart on each breast cup and one on the crotch just above her pussy. She’s wearing high heels, which I never see her do. They’re red, and they match the bikini, glittering and metallic. She’s dyed her normally blonde hair with Manic Panic. She looks like a human Valentine.

And that’s exactly what she is.

She spins suggestively as she undulates to the slow-grinding, sexy music, surprisingly deft on those high, high heels.

She shimmies across the room, stands in front of me, bends over, revealing the tight crotch of the bikini. I can smell her pussy already. She wriggles her ass back toward me and I touch her, caressing her smooth buttocks. She wriggles away, turning around and winking at me, smiling. She licks her lips, runs her hands down over her breasts.

She pinches her nipples and they get hard. I can see them through the bikini top. She pinches and caresses them, easing the heart-shaped tops down to reveal her perfect breasts. She lifts them as far as she can toward her mouth and extends her tongue to lick them. She bends forward close to me, her breasts hanging out. She sings along with the music, some carnal ode to romantic whoopee.

She spins around again, bends forward, easing her butt back toward me. I reach between her legs and stroke her pussy through the G-string, and she snuggles closer, bends further forward. She leans on the sofa and pushes her crotch up toward my face. I can smell her pussy strongly, now, hungry and waiting. I pull the crotch of her G-string out of the way and stroke my fingers against her moist sex. She looks over her shoulder and blows me a kiss. I run my hands down her back as she sits in my lap and writhes, her ass grinding into my hard cock. My hands come up and I pinch her nipples. Her moans are lost in the music as she reaches back and runs her fingertips over my face.

“No touching, remember?” she giggles, and squirms out of my grasp, dancing across the room.

She sinks to the floor and puts her legs up, arching her back and running her fingertips down her belly, pressing them between her legs. She rubs her pussy through the metallic red material, pumping her hips suggestively. She makes eye contact with me, singing along with the song about how much she loves to fuck. Her breasts sway deliciously. She writhes to her feet and shrugs one strap of her top over her shoulder. She unhitches it. She slips off the heart-festooned garment and tosses it at me. I catch it neatly, pressing it to my face and smelling her perfume. I rub my crotch. She strokes her breasts, pinching her nipples again. Then she slides her hand down into her red metallic bottoms and I can tell she’s fucking herself with her middle finger.

When she climbs back into my lap, she draws her finger under my nose and I can smell her sex stronger than ever. I nip at it and she draws her fingers away, not letting me taste it. She rubs her breasts in my face. I try to suck the nipples; she leans back, not letting me have her. I wrap my arms around her and pull her hard onto me, planting my mouth on her breast. She relents, melting into my embrace. I tongue her nipple and she moans loud enough for me to hear her over the music. She straddles me and grinds her crotch into mine. She tries to pull away, and I hold her. She pushes harder, smiling flirtatiously.

“Please?” I beg her plaintively, “Please won’t you be my Valentine?”

“When you ask like that,” she coos, “I can’t resist.”

She leans forward onto me, letting me suckle her breasts. She reaches between us and starts to rub my cock through my pants.

Her palm wrapped around the bulge in my pants, she wriggles her way down onto her knees.

“I’ve got your Valentine right here,” she sighs.

She gets my pants open so fast I can tell she wants it as badly as I do. Her lips slide down over my cock and I moan. My hands run through her carmine-red hair. Her head bobs up and down in my lap.

Her lips and tongue work magic on my cock. I know I could come in her mouth. But I want more. I want to be inside her.

“Fuck me,” I beg.

Her head keeps bobbing as she looks up and devours me with her eyes. She slides her mouth off my cock and smiles.

She takes a step back and turns around, pulling her red bikini bottoms down over her gorgeous ass.

She climbs back into my lap, straddling me. She begins to kiss my ear as she grasps my cock and nuzzles the head between her pussy lips. I can feel how wet she is. She sinks down on top of me and moans, so loud this time that it almost drowns out the music. She starts to ease herself up and down on my cock, fucking me in time to the dance music. I suckle her nipples as she bounces up and down on top of me. She reaches between us and starts to rub her clit. I’m very close to coming, but she’s even closer. Her whole body goes rigid and she grasps me tight, shivering. I start to lift my hips rapidly, pounding my cock into her, and she slumps against me, undulating as her orgasm explodes through her. When I’m ready to come I grasp her buttocks tightly and guide her up and down on my cock, fucking her onto me as I explode deep inside her.

She wraps her arms around me again and cradles my head, kissing me. I tumble her onto the couch and hold her tight. The music grinds on, enveloping us in a bass-driven celebration of sleazy sex. She lays pressed against me on the couch, moaning softly under the music.

“Thanks for being my Valentine,” she sighs.

“Any year,” I smile. “As a matter of fact, any day at all.”