From Blushes 28
Congratulations, Miss Mingley,’ said Mr Halstock. ‘You did very well in the tests. High scores in typing and other office skills. And you seem to be a very attractive and personable young lady. Yes, very attractive. Would you stand up please?’
Mr Halstock himself was getting up from his desk and coming round to Charlotte who was flushing slightly at what he had said. Did this mean that she’d got the job?
‘Could you just slip off your jacket?’ he suggested. ‘So that…’
Charlotte, standing up, after a moment’s hesitation began unfastening buttons. ‘I want to see your shape,’ said Mr Halstock. ‘Just to make sure.’
Oh. Slipping off the jacket of her smart going-to-interviews suit. Was it normal to be asked to take your jacket off? Not that Charlotte had anything that would not stand up to scrutiny, so to speak. She was a very pretty brunette with an excellent figure, tall and slim-waisted but at the same time with a full, firm bust. It was this that Mr Halstock was now judiciously observing, as it thrust out the front of her ivory silk blouse.
‘Oh yes, very good indeed. And of course appearance is important in this position. You’ll be in the front office and a pretty face and what a girl’s got up front are bound to catch the clients’ eyes. Market research has shown that a nice pair of tits on a pretty girl can have a most positive effect on a client.’
Charlotte didn’t know what to say but she could feel a flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. She was not used to being spoken about like this, almost as if she were a prize cow… And she didn’t like Mr Halstock’s choice of words. But he was now saying something else.
‘Yes very good, young lady. All in all I think you’re quite what we’re looking for.’
Oh. Well. And the salary that had been mentioned had been very attractive indeed.
‘Just… ah… pull your shoulders back a little, Miss Mingley. Let those fine things assume their natural prominence.’
Somehow, thinking of that salary, Charlotte did it. ‘That’s better. That’s much better. That and a nice winning smile, how could any client resist? A nice smile, my dear.’
And somehow, standing there with her boobs thrust out, Charlotte produced a rather sickly smile as well. She didn’t like this kind of thing, not at all, but perhaps in the world of business… And she did need the job. She badly wanted to get a place of her own and get away from her mother’s tiresome criticisms — not least of the fact that at the moment Charlotte didn’t have a job. This position with Halstock and Boothroyd, property developers, was just what she wanted, especially with that salary that she was sure was well above the average for a secretary/receptionist. Yes, surely she could smile and let Mr Halstock see the shape of her bust if it meant she had the job.
‘However…’ said Mr Halstock. Ah. Even for pretty girls with large firm breasts life has its ‘howevers’. Indeed it might be said that at times they experience ‘howevers’ more often than the rest of us.
‘However,’ said Mr Halstock once more and still eyeing Charlotte’s splendid tits, ‘first of all you will have temporary status. For a short initial period. So that Mr Boothroyd and I can be sure the company has got exactly what it wants. I’m sure you can understand that.’
He gave her a big smile. ‘And in this temporary period your salary will be two-thirds of the full permanent figure. So that you can have something to look forward to as it were.’
Oh. That was a nasty little shock, when she had already been thinking what she could do with that nice big figure. But Mr Halstock assured her that it would only be for a very short period, if she came up to scratch as he was sure she would.
That was it. Charlotte had got the job so it was silly to feel disappointed. She put her jacket back on.
‘Oh,’ said Mr Halstock. ‘One little thing. Do you always wear a bra, my dear?’
What? Charlotte rapidly flushing again.
‘I’m sure those lovely things don’t need a bra, Miss Mingley. I mean for support. I’m sure they’re beautifully firm and well able to look after themselves. And market research quite clearly shows that a pretty girl with good boobs who doesn’t wear a bra is way ahead in terms of attractiveness to clients. No bra and quite a tight blouse. So that the nipples can be seen.’
Charlotte bit her lip. What could you say to that. She could feel herself trembling.
‘Anyway, my dear, just a thought. And we’ll see you on Monday.’
Maybe Mr Halstock had been joking? He hadn’t sounded like he was joking though. And Charlotte really did want the job, her mother was getting quite impossible. She wanted the job and she wanted that full, permanent salary. But to get that she presumably had to do what Mr Halstock wanted, to do what was good for the company as he would no doubt say. Those clients who wanted to see her nipples.
On Monday morning feeling more than a little apprehensive and wearing a blouse and full skirt and, yes, also a bra, Charlotte met for the first time the other partner, Mr Boothroyd. Mr Boothroyd, with a round, quite bald head, was not so obsessed with Charlotte’s tits as Mr Halstock seemed to be. But Mr Boothroyd was interested in something else. Right away he showed this interest. Right after introducing himself and then standing with Charlotte at the window looking down at the street, Mr Boothroyd put his hand on Charlotte’s bottom. Took hold of it. Took hold of the nearside full, firm cheek through her loose, quite thin skirt.
She involuntarily jerked forward. Not that Charlotte could jerk forward very far with the window close in front of her and then the street two floors below. Mr Boothroyd gave a little laugh. ‘You’ve got a lovely shape, my dear. A lovely figure. Mr Halstock was quite right.’
And then the hand which had been momentarily dislodged by Charlotte’s automatic shocked reaction, almost resulting in her banging her forehead against the windowpane, was back. A firm, no-nonsense grip of that same left cheek of her bottom, fingers reaching deep into the cleft.
It was all absolutely unexpected. Mr Halstock hadn’t made any reference to her bottom, though he had made her turn round when she had her jacket off. No, it was simply her tits that Charlotte had been concerned for and wondering what she was going to say to Mr Halstock if he said something like, ‘I thought we agreed no bra, Miss Mingley? Not of course that she had agreed that at all but he might easily say it and what would she do then? What if he told her there and then to take it off? With all this Charlotte hadn’t been able to give much thought to Mr Boothroyd or wonder whether he might also pose some sort of problem. Now his hand was suddenly, intimately on her bottom. Not just lightly touching it but really gripping the soft firm flesh. Whereas Mr Halstock hadn’t actually touched her boobs at all. Not yet at least.
Charlotte made a squealing ‘Eeek!’ sound and then, ‘Please…’ Trying to squirm away again. But this time Mr Boothroyd’s hand stayed with her. Mr Boothroyd was grinning.
‘Not shy I hope, Miss? We won’t want a shy girl in the front office. I’m sure Mr Halstock told you that.’
Mr Boothroyd’s hand slid down, to the undercurve of Charlotte’s ripe rear. Fingers reaching in… she gave another shocked squeal.
‘Mustn’t be shy, my dear. You know what I do to a shy girl? I take her knickers down and smack her bottom. That usually cures her of shyness.’
The fingers sharply pinched soft flesh. This was followed by a brisk slap across the trembling cheeks. ‘Just remember that, young lady.’
Mr Boothroyd went off, into his office. Charlotte felt like she might collapse at any moment. Someone came in. Oh God. But it wasn’t Mr Halstock, it was the office boy carrying a pile of letters. He introduced himself: Keith Banning. He looked about 18. Charlotte tried to produce some normal friendly chat but her mind was still full of Mr Boothroyd’s dreadful hand. Keith Banning she noticed was ogling her tits. Oh God.
Mr Halstock didn’t come in until an hour later by which time Charlotte had been given some idea of how things worked by the boy Keith and Mr Boothroyd. Mr Boothroyd took whatever opportunity there was to get his hand on her bottom again. Charlotte knew what she should do was tell him firmly to stop it, she wasn’t putting up with that sort of thing. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. But if you couldn’t do that all you could do was meekly accept it. Maybe after he had done it a few times he would lose interest, she thought hopefully. But that, she knew, was being very hopeful.
‘Getting on all right?’ queried Mr Halstock cheerfully when he did arrive. What with Mr Boothroyd and being afraid to stand anywhere near him, Charlotte had pretty much forgotten Mr Halstock, whereas up until an hour ago she couldn’t think of anything else. She made a nervous reply. Mr Halstock said would she come into his office.
Inside with the door closed he said exactly what she had feared he would say. ‘I thought we agreed…’ etc. Charlotte felt herself begin to shake.
‘I can’t,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t do that. That boy…’ For it was true he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of Charlotte’s ripe boobs. But apart from that she anyway just couldn’t.
Mr Halstock moved in close and turned Charlotte round so that her back was towards him. She at once sensed what he was going to do but she was helpless. He did it. His hands came round under her arms and took hold of the splendid tits. A whimpering sound from Charlotte. Was it worse than what Mr Boothroyd’s hand had done? It was certainly just as bad. She had only a light bra on under her semi-transparent blue blouse. ‘Please…’ she whispered weakly.
Mr Halstock said, ‘Don’t worry about that youth, he is only the office boy and should be getting on with his work not looking at you.’ The cupping hands lifted the soft mounds up and down. ‘But I tell you what. I’ve got something I want you to do in here for half an hour. Let’s have it off while you do that. It’ll get you into the feel of it and you can put it on again when you’re through.
There was no point arguing because Mr Halstock was himself now unbuttoning her blouse. Popping open the little buttons and pulling the blue material apart. And then at her bra strap. Charlotte had a funny feeling, like being in a dream. Well, not funny, awful. Dreadful. Mr Halstock had discovered that he couldn’t take the bra off without first removing her blouse — and so he was doing that. Charlotte wasn’t struggling. That feeling of helplessness, and also the realisation that if she did struggle she would in all probability rip her blouse. The blouse came off, and then the bra. Mr Halstock pushing her hands away. It was just too unbelievably dreadful. Mr Halstock’s greedy hands at her nude boobs. Her nipples. Which were coming up, sticking out, aroused by this nightmarish but heady action.
Mr Halstock did eventually reluctantly let go and allow Charlotte to refasten her blouse. But with it tight and semi-transparent over her splendid tits they were as good as nude still, in a way they were more than nude. ‘Very lovely,’ said appreciative Mr Halstock. His hands roamed sensuously over the taut thin silk.
As he was doing this he suddenly asked: ‘Mr Boothroyd. Has he said anything about his cottage yet?’
What? All Charlotte could really think of were hands. Mr Halstock’s hands, Mr Boothroyd’s hand. What was Mr Halstock saying as he continued to grope?
Mr Halstock repeated his rather cryptic query. Well, no, he hadn’t said anything about a cottage.
‘Oh,’ said Mr Halstock.
But Mr Boothroyd did say something half an hour later, almost as soon as Charlotte was back out in the other office, her bra now mercifully on again.
‘Tomorrow afternoon, Charlotte, I am going to take you out for a little break. To my cottage in Essex. I need to go out that way on business and if I take you it will be an excellent opportunity for us to get better acquainted.’ And perhaps to give some idea of what ‘better acquainted’ might mean, Mr Boothroyd once more reached firmly for Charlotte’s bottom.
It was a pretty little place, a charming garden and all whitewash and beams inside. But Charlotte was in no frame of mind to appreciate any of that. She was alone with Mr Boothroyd, that was all she could think of. She had been alone with him for an hour in his car, driving out of London right after lunch, and now here. What was Mr Boothroyd going to do? He had said yesterday it was a business trip but what business could it be alone in his cottage with the secretary? Also…
On the drive down he had made her take her tights off. ‘You don’t need tights on a nice day in the country,’ he had said and made her take them off right there, driving along the A12. ‘Anyway,’ Mr Boothroyd said, ‘I don’t like tights on a girl. In future make sure it’s stockings and a suspender belt at the office. OK?’
Charlotte hadn’t answered, her head full of scary thoughts of what Mr Boothroyd might have in mind at his cottage. The scary thoughts weren’t made any less scary as he began fondling her bare thighs while continuing to drive at high speed. Yesterday things had continued more or less as they had begun and this morning hadn’t been any different. If it wasn’t Mr Boothroyd it was Mr Halstock.
In fact if all that wasn’t enough there was also young Keith. Charlotte had gone to the pub with him yesterday lunchtime when he had offered, thinking that at least he might be some sort of ally, but he had just kept wanting to put his hand on her leg. And also told her she had ‘really super boobs.’ That sort of behaviour was not at all what she wanted but he had merely grinned and said; ‘Don’t say you’re keeping it all for Mr Halstock and Mr Boothroyd.’ But at least Charlotte was sure she could handle him. Her two employers were undoubtedly something else. She had even thought of leaving — except that she knew how her mother would react to that. And anyway she would have to give notice: two weeks. And in that two weeks…
‘Would you like a drink?’ Mr Boothroyd inquired now they were in the snug sitting room of Primrose Cottage. ‘Then we can get down to business.’
Business? Charlotte said she’d have a sherry please if there was one. What business? Whatever it was a drink might help.
‘Discipline,’ Mr Boothroyd said after it was established that Charlotte would prefer medium sweet. ‘Are you familiar with discipline, my dear? I am talking of course of discipline of the physical sort.’
What? A blank look.
‘Spanking, Charlotte. Are you experienced in having your knickers taken down and your bare bottom spanked? That is what I am talking about.’
Oh Jesus. He had said something about that yesterday, but she hadn’t thought… Mr Boothroyd couldn’t really mean…
‘All girls need a taste, Charlotte. Discipline is necessary in any person’s life and for young women of your age it should definitely be discipline of the spanking variety. Although one can also use the cane or a strap as well to very good effect.’
Charlotte half-choked on her drink.
‘So I’m going to give you a little introduction. Drink up. Drink up and then take your dress off. And then your knickers.’
Charlotte didn’t believe this. He couldn’t. It was even worse than Mr Halstock making her take her bra off in his office. Charlotte hadn’t been able to believe that either — until Mr Halstock made her do it. But this… ‘No!’ she breathed. ‘No! You can’t.’
‘Do you want me to do it?’ queried Mr Boothroyd calmly. ‘I certainly can. Though if you struggle you may well get those nice big buttons ripped off. Or even that smart dress itself ripped. Don’t you think?’
It was her favourite dress. Black and slim skirted, buttoning all down the back. Mr Boothroyd had said wear something smart and she had. Not knowing that he was going to be ripping if off her. Charlotte bit her lip, and then stood up. Feeling sick her hands went behind her, to the big black buttons.
‘That’s a good girl,’ Mr Boothroyd said smugly.
Charlotte didn’t look at him. Trying to close her mind, shut it all out. Not that she could. She had nothing under her dress except brief bra and knickers. No tights of course and she hadn’t worn a slip. Mr Boothroyd was watching her like some kind of creature waiting for its prey. The buttons were all undone now.
‘Slip it off,’ he said. ‘Leave it there on the carpet. And then come here.’
In just her skimpy bra and pants and high heels stepping over to where Mr Boothroyd was waiting, sitting on a low easy chair. ‘How lovely,’ he smiled. ‘What a lovely girl. Now the knickers please. Slip them off. Then get down here.’
The knickers were off. She got down, kneeling on the carpet at his side. Then made herself bend over his lap. Hands on the carpet at the other side. Think of that lovely little flat she would be able to rent when in a couple of weeks time she was on the full, permanent salary. Just think about that, Charlotte told herself. Mr Halstock had said probably two weeks. That was all. And then…
Mr Boothroyd was playing with her bottom. Jiggling the smooth nude cheeks. Playfully slapping them. Think about the flat. Think about being free of her mother’s nagging.
She gasped as his hand splatted down, hard and crisp. Causing her to lurch forward. A whimper.
CRACK!… Think about something. It would soon…
Oh please… It would soon be over.
It was nothing really. Only Mr Boothroyd’s hand slamming into her bare bottom. It really hurt but…
It wasn’t impossible. Think of something really impossible…
Something really impossible…
Afterwards Mr Boothroyd, eyes gleaming, said, ‘How about a little rest after that. A lie down. Upstairs. There’s a nice little bed, sheets all aired. Come on.’