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Hillary

12

Thanks for choosing to read 'Hillary' and for giving me the opportunity to share my story with you.

A special thanks also to everyone who has voted and left feedback on my stories in the past. Your opinions are very important to me and I appreciate and value your comments. I hope that when you finish reading 'Hillary' you'll take a few minutes to vote and leave your comments on Literotica.

Everyone in this story is over eighteen but if you aren't, or if you are offended by sexually explicit material, stop reading now, close this page, and go and do something else.

Ingenue

xx

This story is the intellectual property of the author and cannot be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form without written consent.

It was the start of another working day and along with a dozen or so others I stood silently in the foyer waiting for the elevator to take me up to the fourteenth floor. At eighteen I was just out of school and a few weeks into my first fulltime job with an international merchant bank in the city.

The advertisement in our weekend newspaper a few weeks before had caught my eye and, without a great deal of confidence, I'd applied for the position of 'Executive Assistant'. A few days after I sent in my résumé I was surprised to get a phone call asking me to come in for an interview and stunned when, the next day, I received an email offering me the position.

Mum and Dad told me they were proud of me but, in truth, I think they were simply relieved. I'd finished year twelve but wasn't quite ready to commit to university. I felt I needed a little time to decide what I really wanted to do before taking the plunge. My parents were worried that I'd drop out and drift into some dead-end job without completing my education. I didn't understand why they would be concerned because that's not me at all - I guess parents are a bit like that.

I knew I would eventually go to university but for the next year or so I was happy to try a few different things and this seemed like a good opportunity to get a taste of what it was like to have a real, fulltime job. I was pleased because it also meant the end of casual weekend work at the department store and nights at the Italian restaurant, where the owner kept hinting that I could earn a lot more if I stayed behind after work occasionally.

At the interview, the job had sounded interesting and challenging and although my title was 'Executive' Assistant' and I had my own personalised business card and corporate mobile phone, I was really no more than a junior office girl.

Usually my days were spent filing, taking phone calls, making appointments, organising lunch, running personal errands and making cups of organic, green tea for my boss, Hillary. It certainly wasn't what I'd expected, and after just a month in the job I realised that being Hillary's private gopher really wasn't for me.

The work was mundane and boring but I liked Hillary. She was a successful career woman in her late thirties, tall and slim with short, stylish blonde hair that was cut short, just above her shoulders. Occasionally she wore it pulled back in a pony tail that gave her a sporty look and highlighted her strong, sensual features.

Most of all I liked her manner which was direct and uncompromising. If I did something wrong she let me know and when I did a good job she was generous with her praise.

The previous week I had organised a conference for twenty of the bank's executives and senior managers. It was a lot of work but on the day everything went well and I was proud of what I achieved.

Hillary had left all of the organising to me and was very pleased with how smoothly everything went. At the end of the conference she thanked me publicly and the day after she had took me out to lunch as a reward for a job well done.

For lunch she chose an expensive restaurant overlooking the river and ordered for both of us. She had Atlantic salmon with a green salad and a glass of Eden Valley Riesling. For me it was duck breast and a glass of Tasmanian Pinot Noir, both of which were fantastic.

During the meal I saw a very different side of Hillary to the one she presented at work. We laughed a lot and occasionally she reached across and lightly brushed the back of my hand with the tips her long, elegant fingers, making me shiver.

We talked about all sorts of things. I told her about my experience with boys, which was very limited and she told me about her marriage to a wealthy and well known barrister, which seemed to be a bit dull.

I told her about my recent camping holiday in Victoria with my best friend Anna, and although I left out some of the more intimate details, I think she guessed that we had been lovers and was a little envious.

Towards the end of the meal, she excused herself and went to the ladies room. When she came back she looked a little flushed and I noticed that the top two buttons of her white, silk blouse were undone, revealing the beginning of the gentle swell of her firm, full breasts.

I was sure that she was wearing a bra when we arrived but as she sat down I could see the outline of her hard nipples against the thin, tightly stretched fabric of her blouse. I tried unsuccessfully not to stare. She noticed and smiled. I was embarrassed and blushed.

When we got up to leave she gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. The sensation of her warm soft lips against my skin, the pleasure of her firm breasts pressed against my chest and her hand on my butt increased the warm tingling sensation between my legs that had started while we were chatting.

We left the restaurant and walked back to the car in silence, both absorbed in our own thoughts. It was a warm day and the sun was shining but the flush on my skin and the burning in my loins had nothing to do with the temperature of the day.

As we reached the car Hillary suddenly put her hands on my shoulders, pushed me back against the hot metal bodywork of her black BMW and kissed me. My mouth yielded to her assault and her tongue found its way between my lips. Her hand was on my breast and she pressed her sex against my leg. She took my hand and placed it inside her blouse on her naked breast. When she put her hand between my legs all I could do was moan.

"Not here. Not now. Please," I panted, secretly hoping she would ignore my plea, conscious and excited but also a little embarrassed by the attention we were attracting.

She pulled away and smiled. "No Catherine, not now but later." And with that promise she got in the car and started the engine.

Back at the office I went straight to the ladies room and masturbated. The taste of Hillary's kiss was still on my lips and the smell of her subtle fragrance lingered. Closing my eyes I saw the desire in her sparkling blue eyes and the smile on her face as she pushed me back against the car and kissed me. I put my hand under my top and remembered how wonderful it had felt when she touched me there, and how, in contrast to my tiny breasts; hers had completely filled my hand.

Pretending it was Hillary I slipped my hand inside my panties and slid a finger between the delicate folds of my labia. As I stroked myself I remembered her words, "No Catherine, not now but later." But I couldn't wait any longer.

As my orgasm started I heard someone enter the cubical next to mine. It was too late to stop so I jammed the fist in my mouth hoping to muffle my moans, but a knowing laugh told me that whoever it was knew what was happening on the other side of the thin partition. Hopefully they didn't know it was me.

Back at my desk I tried to do some work, but couldn't concentrate. Hillary had meetings the rest of the afternoon and I didn't see her again before I left to go home. I needed to see her and talk to her, perhaps explain. Maybe I simply needed her to take me in her arms and kiss me again.

Her last words, "No Catherine, not now but later", played over and over in my mind and I prayed that she wouldn't make me wait too long.

That evening I went to the gym and spent a punishing fifteen minutes on the treadmill before pushing myself to the limit in the weights room. I worked through my routine of bench press, chins, curls, tricep extensions, cable rows, leg extension, leg curls and squats. To finish off I did crunches and sit ups until the muscles in my stomach were burning and I could barely move.

At home I had a shower, prepared and ate dinner, checked my emails and went to bed. Alone in the dark I waited for the refuge of sleep, but when it finally came I dreamt about her.

In my dream we were in her car. She was driving the BMW much faster than she should. I was in the front passenger seat. She was wearing the same black skirt, white, silk blouse and black, leather shoes that she had worn to lunch that day. Her blouse was unbuttoned almost to her navel and I could see her firm round breast, crowned by a hard pointed nipple. I was naked.

It was raining and there was the low growl of the high performance engine, the hiss of the tyres on the wet road and the swish of the windscreen wipers on the glass. We stopped at traffic lights and she made me spread my legs, put my feet up on the dashboard and masturbate. Pedestrians crossing in front of the car watched as they walked past. She leant over, took my hand and placed it on her breast, kissed me and I came.

I woke up hot and sweaty in a tangle of damp bed clothes. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breath coming in short, raspy gasps. I kicked off the quilt and masturbated again. It only took a few seconds and between sobs of pleasure I moaned her name as I came. Exhausted I fell into a light fitful sleep.

In the morning I skipped breakfast, showered, dressed quickly and left for work, impatient to see her again.

The wait for the elevator seemed to be longer than usual, and totally immersed in my thoughts about the events of the previous day, I didn't notice when it eventually arrived. Without me realising it the doors had already opened and I was carried forward as the mass of people pressed forward, carrying me along with them.

Suddenly I found myself towards the back of the car surrounded by a wall of human flesh. Glancing around, I saw a few familiar faces. Some I recognised as colleagues at the bank. There were one or two other regulars who I assumed worked on other floors in the building.

The doors of the lift closed with a hiss and we waited in an awkward silence. After what seemed like an eternity the car started, the sudden movement catching me by surprise. Off balance I stumbled, bumping against the person behind me and felt a steadying hand on my shoulder.

Without turning to see who it was I mumbled a meaningless apology.

"Sorry."

"That's okay Catherine." The voice and the subtle and familiar fragrance told me immediately that it was Hillary.

The elevator slowed and came to a stop at the first floor. The doors opened and everyone shuffled back to make room for more passengers. As it started again, Hillary's hand slid down my arm to my waist and around to my stomach, her fingers finding their way inside the waist band of my skirt.

Startled by the unexpected intrusion I turned my head and mouthed, "No," but she didn't understand or simply ignored my plea and continued to slip her hand down the front of my skirt until she reached the bare skin just above my panties.

My heart was pounding and I was sure everyone in the elevator could hear it thundering inside my chest. Nervously I glanced around but they were all staring intently at the changing numbers on the illuminated panel beside the door, apparently oblivious to what was happening.

As the elevator slid smoothly upwards Hillary slid her hand over my stomach, quickly cupped and squeezed my breast then was gone.

The elevator stopped and the door opened. It was my floor and people were spilling out, making their way to their work stations or offices to begin the day.

The encounter was brief, over almost before it had started, but it left me flushed, flustered and wanting more.

I looked up. Hillary was a few paces in front of me and as I made it unsteadily out of the elevator and into the passage, she paused, turned, smiled at me and raised her hand to adjust her glasses.

"Catherine, could you please see me in my office at nine o'clock. There are a few things I'd like you to do for me this morning."

Without waiting for a reply she strode off in the direction of her office.

It took a few seconds for me to regain sufficient composure to make it along the corridor to the ladies rest room. Thankfully there was no one there and I went into one of the cubicles, closed and locked the door and without lifting the lid, sat down.

I slid my panties to my ankles and spread my legs. I was wet and my cunt was screaming for attention, but as my fingers found their way between my legs the outside door opened and the room filled with excited female chatter.

Frustrated, I sat in silence, desperate for them to leave. After several minutes that seemed to me like hours, with their inane conversation still in full swing and no sign it coming to an end, I fixed my clothes, brushed my hair, took a deep breath and opened the door.

I went to my desk, saying good morning to my work mates on the way but avoiding any long conversations. I sat down, turned on my computer and after a few seconds the screen came to life.

The background wallpaper, a photo of the beach in front of my house at sunset, looked so beautiful and normal that it made me doubt what had just happened was real. Perhaps it had been a dream, or a maybe fantasy.

I opened my email and clicked on the inbox. There were twenty or so emails, but the one that caught my attention was the one timed at eight forty-two, just a few minutes before. It was from as Hillary.

Anxiously, I double clicked on it and waited for it to open.

"Good morning Catherine,

I really enjoyed our little adventure in the lift this morning - and I know you did too.

Please don't forget that I want to see you in my office at 9.00 a.m.

Before you come, please remove your panties, I suspect they are still very wet. Take off your bra too - your breasts are so small it's hardly necessary anyway. Place them both in one of the internal mail envelopes - address it to me and leave it with the mail girl.

On your way please get me a green tea - you know the one I like.

H."

What the hell! This was going too far and I panicked. I quickly typed a letter of resignation, printed and signed it, picked up my keys and purse, and headed for Hillary's office.

Without knocking I opened the door and strode in. Hillary was on her mobile phone. She looked up, clearly annoyed.

"Can I call you back? Something has just come up that needs my urgent attention." There was a pause as she listened to the response form whoever she was talking to, then. "Okay. Thanks. I'll get back to you as soon as I deal with this."

She put down the phone, leaned back in her chair and glared at me over the top of her glasses.

"Just what do you think you are doing Catherine?" I said nine, not..." she paused looking down at her watch, "...four minutes to."

She was obviously angry at me for interrupting an important phone call, but I wasn't going to be put off.

"Hillary, I ..." I stared, holding up my letter of resignation, but she cut me off.

She took off her glasses, stood up and came around her desk to where I was standing and snatched the envelope out of my hand.

"What's this?" She demanded as she impatiently tore open the envelope and quickly read the letter

"I don't believe it!" she exclaimed as she threw the letter on the desk. "Sometimes you young people leave me speechless."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of her words. Angry she might be, but speechless - no way.

"Is this the thanks I get for taking you on? I give you a great opportunity and this is what happens. I think it's about time I taught you to appreciate what I've done for you, and while I'm at it, maybe give you a lesson in manners. Obviously your parents didn't bother."

In the midst of her tirade she grabbed my arm and, ignoring my protests, dragged me to her desk, pushed me over and forced me face-down on the cold glass surface.

She pulled my arms together, crossed my wrists and held them together with one hand while with the other she picked up a roll of masking tape that was on her desk then quickly and expertly wrapped it around my wrists, securing firmly them behind my back. Obviously it was all planned but I was taken completely by surprise and overwhelmed by her speed and strength.

I struggled to get up but she easily held me there, my stomach, face and breasts pressed firmly against the desk, my arse in the air and my feet barely reaching the ground.

She lowered her tone, speaking slowly and deliberately as if she was giving careful consideration to the words.

"Now Catherine, let me see. Just what am I going to do with you? First you ignore my instructions and enter my office early. Surely you've been working for me for long enough to know that when I say nine o'clock, I mean nine o'clock! And you forget to bring my tea."

Without warning she landed a blow on my raised butt and I yelped, more from surprise than the actual pain.

I was about to protest but my words were cut off when she hit me for a second time. Although it was quite firm, my skirt and panties cushioned much of the blow and in truth it didn't hurt all that much but I thought this had gone far enough.

I squirmed, trying to get free but she put one hand on the back of my neck and held me firmly pinned to the desk while with her free hand she took the hem of my skirt and lifted it, exposing my panty clad butt.

"Hmmm... just as I thought, I see you've also chosen to ignore my instructions about removing your underwear. That just won't do, now will it?"

I'm sure the question was rhetorical and in any case before I had a chance to reply the next blow landed. It was harder than the others, and this time there was only the thin material of my panties between her hand and my bare arse.

Hillary's fingers slipped under the waist band of my panties and with a quick, firm tug she pulled them down to my knees.

Hillary laughed. "Well, well, well," she smirked. "So which little horny slut has already wet her panties this morning?"

It was obvious that she'd seen the tell-tale wet patch in the crutch of my panties and in spite of my compromising position, bare arsed, prostrate on my boss's desk with my panties down to my knees, I felt the warm glow of embarrassment flood my cheeks.

The next blow was carefully aimed and landed with force on my naked, tender flesh. This time it did hurt and I squealed in genuine pain. The next blow and the one after that both landed in exactly the same spot, adding to the pain which radiated from the point of impact as a hot tingling glow.

I tensed in preparation for the next blow but instead of the hard, stinging slap of Hillary's hand I felt the cool, soothing sensation of lotion or oil being poured liberally over my tingling butt.

The contrast was amazing and I squirmed with pleasure as Hillary spread the cool, slippery fluid with slow, deliberate strokes, pausing occasionally to drizzle more into the crevice between the cheeks of my butt until I could feel it trickling down across my tight, sensitive anus and continuing until it reached my already sopping pussy.

I could feel her hot breath on my neck as she bent over to whisper in my ear. "You like that don't you Catherine?"

Words were beyond me, but as she ran a perfectly manicured finger along the crack in my butt, rimming my hole, tracing a line across my perineum and pausing just short of my aching slit, she knew my answer.

My panties were still around my knees, frustrating my attempts to spread my legs to give my tormentor access to my sex. By wriggling my legs I was able to work them down to my ankles and I impatiently kicked them off. Freed from the restraint, I spread my legs and raised my butt to meet Hillary's probing fingers.

12
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