Amber Calls The Shots

Hi, my name is Amber and I'm a Bad Girl. Reckon I am, anyway -- maybe you guys can let me know what you think later, when I've told you some stuff.

I'm extremely pretty is the first thing to say, beautiful in fact, and I get an awful lot of male attention. An AWFUL lot. Men of all ages are forever ogling me, can't seem to help themselves, and they tend to go weak at the knees in my company. You know, start acting foolish, either trying like mad to impress me or ... with the shy ones ... coming over all gauche and embarrassed. Me, I don't mind at all. Not one iota. I'm fully aware of the effect I have on the male of the species and I enjoy it.

I'm 19 (a nice age for a girl to be) and as I say, I'm gorgeous. How gorgeous? Okay, so on a score of 1 to 10, I'd have to say I'm a 9.99 -- minimum. Giggle. I'm quite tall (but not too tall) and I have a lovely face and a perfect figure ... long shapely legs, firm full breasts, flawlessly smooth and lightly tanned skin ... a luscious bum ... you get the picture. Men have told me I make them SICK with desire. That's how gorgeous I am. Giggle. And, as I say, I like it. I really like being a drop-dead-looking girl and I like the effect I have on men.

Way I see it, I'm very lucky. I've been blessed with great beauty and I enjoy my good fortune. Why shouldn't I?

To be honest, I more than "like" the effect I have on men, I REVEL in it. I get a delicious sense of power, having men lusting over me all the time -- it turns me on. Feel guilty about relishing the power? No, I'm a beautiful girl and beautiful girls have power over men. That's how the world is.

I exploit my looks quite shamelessly in order to get things I want, or more often simply to amuse myself. I think it's natural for a girl like me to do this. It's perfectly cool, as far as I'm concerned. Mmm. Giggle. Like, for example, I tend to dress quite sexy. Nothing slutty or anything, but I definitely wear outfits which I KNOW get men hot and bothered. You know the sort of thing - short skirts and mini-dresses, revealing tops, low slung hip-hugging jeans, tight tee shirts, sassy little cut offs. I drive the boys crazy and I love every minute of it.

I'm a tease, I guess is what I'm saying. Giggle. God I can be sooo wicked.

I'm especially naughty at the office. We have to dress quite conservative, company like ours, but my skirt is always close fitting and hugs my bum. Cut a little above the knee so it slides nicely up my thighs as I cross, uncross, re-cross my legs - which I do a whole lot of, needless to say. My blouse tends to have enough buttons undone to give a glimpse of my breasts as they nestle in a flimsy lace bra. More than a glimpse, in fact, from certain angles. I drive all the guys there nuts, basically - pretty much torture them. I'm not good for productivity, I must admit, since most of them spend more time ogling my legs and trying to get a peep into my blouse than they do actually working. Poor things. Giggle.

I don't do much work either, truth be told, not since I got Roger, my boss, under my thumb -- tell you later how that happened.

(2) SHE HUMILIATES A GEEK

As for the other guys at the office, I'm out of their league -- and they know it -- but I tease and flirt with them all the time. Why? Stops me getting bored, for one thing. Also, I enjoy the adulation. It's a delicious situation for a girl to be surrounded by a bunch of guys, and to know full well that every single one of them fancies her rotten. A few of them are quite dishy too -- Dean, for example, and Donny -- and this makes it all the more fun.

There's one guy there who I DON'T flirt with, and that's Gerald. Gerald is this totally pathetic guy, kind of weedy and spotty and wears glasses -- his nickname is Geek, which pretty much sums him up. He's not at all dishy, let's just say that.

So no, I don't flirt with Gerald the Geek, although of course he fancies me just as much as the others do. You'd probably expect a girl like me to ignore such a geeky loser, but in fact I don't. Gerald no doubt wishes I DID ignore him, though. Why? Well because I make his life at work a misery basically, with the way I treat him. Gerald HATES me.

Giggle.

I caught him ogling me one day, a while ago, when I was in a fairly wicked mood, and decided to have some fun. I got up and strolled over to his desk, stood there smiling down at him.

"Question for you, Gerald," I announced in a voice loud enough for the other guys to hear.

"Whhat's that, Amber?" he stuttered.

"Why are you staring at me? Do you fancy me or something?"

Silly question really. I was looking particularly sexy and gorgeous that day and I knew every guy there had been staring longingly at me all morning.

"Well?" I persisted, putting him on the spot.

"I ggguess so," he said, embarrassed.

The other guys were watching this now. Sniggers all round at Gerald's admission that he fancied me.

"Well that's nice Gerald, but what would your girlfriend say about it if she found out?"

This caused a fair degree of general amusement. "Don't think Geek Boy has a girlfriend, Amber, do you?" said Dean, grinning sardonically.

I giggled and perched myself up on Gerald's desk. Sat very close to him. I could see he was trembling a little at me being so near.

"Is that right, Geek? Don't you have a girlfriend?" I smirked. This was the first time I'd called him by his derisory nickname and it amused the room.

"No Amber," he mumbled.

"Aw poor little Geeky," I chuckled. "Guess that's why you look at me all the time. Bet you get excited looking at me, don't you? My legs for example, do you like my legs?"

I slid even closer to the poor guy and I slowly crossed my legs, letting my skirt ride up a few inches. Our position meant my legs were flaunted right in front of him.

"S'okay Geek, you don't need to answer," I grinned. "I know EXACTLY how much I turn you on. And I know all you can ever do is look. Like now, with my sexy legs. You can look but you can't touch. Must be soooo frustrating for you. Not like with the other guys, is it? Not like Dean and Donny for example. They fancy me too but at least they have girlfriends, so the sight of me in my sexy skirt and my sexy blouse doesn't torture them the way it does you. It's true, isn't it? I torture you just by being me."

Gerald nodded. Poor guy was being humiliated in front of everybody. The others were laughing at him, enjoying it almost as much as I was.

"Aw and I'm such a TEASE, aren't I? I mean, look at me perched here on your desk in my sexy little skirt, flaunting my long shapely legs in your face. Cruel of me, isn't it? Doing this when you can't even touch them. Should I unbutton my blouse a bit more and show you my tits? They're very nice, you know. Should I show you, Gerald, or should I just let you imagine? Hey, do you jerk off every night thinking about me? Mmm, I think you do."

"Think that's a fair bet, Amber" chirped Donny. "Course, so do the rest of us."

I pouted and giggled. I pretty much knew this of course but it turned me on to hear Donny say it.

I leant forward and tweaked Gerald's nose. "See you later Geek," I grinned as I slipped off his desk, then sashayed sexily back across the office ... with a knowing smile and an extra wiggle of the hips ... pleasantly aware that all the boys were ogling me and wished I was their girlfriend.

"And behave yourself in future," I called back.

This incident set the tone with me and Gerald.

And the guys loved it, of course. They fell about, tormented poor Gerald mercilessly about it for the rest of the day.

It also sealed the poor boy's fate - being humiliated by me like this in front of the whole office removed the last vestiges of self esteem he had. He was bullied quite a bit in the time before this, but the floodgates were open now. I was Queen Bee around the place, because everyone fancied me, and they knew now that the Queen Bee approved of tormenting Gerald the Geek. The guys who liked to rip into him, such as Dean and Donny, were encouraged and the bullying got much worse.

Another aspect of the delicious, devastating power I have as a beautiful and very sexy girl. Giggle.

Jeez, some of the things that've been done to Gerald in the office between then and now. Poor little guy.

Not surprising he hates me so much, is it?

(3) AMBER AND CYNTHIA

Yeah I have a whale of a time at work, I really do. No female competition either -- only other girl is this plain dumpy thing called Cynthia. She secretly hates me too, of course, I'm everything she'd love to be, but isn't. Poor cow really is a minger (a word guys use to describe an ugly girl). I said I'm a 9.99, didn't I? Well, Cynthia is a 2 and that's on a good day. Giggle.

Can't be easy for her either, being the Beast to my Beauty, observing close hand how I've got every guy there wrapped round my little finger -- panting adoringly over me -- when she gets no male attention whatsoever. Jealous isn't the word. She's GREEN with envy. Totally eaten up by it, and you can't really blame her. She's the sort of girl who doesn't have a boyfriend and knows she never will. Probably never even been kissed. God, can you imagine? No, neither can I. So glad I'm pretty and can have fun with guys whenever I want.

The contrast between Cynthia and me is so obvious and cruel, it's actually very funny. Funny for me, anyway. I get quite a kick out of it, I'm not ashamed to say. Makes me look even more gorgeous than I already am for one thing, only other girl in the place being fat and ugly. She gets called some really hurtful names by some of the boys in the office -- "Dumpster" being the default -- but I don't do that. I often laugh along with the rest of them when they abuse her like this, kind of egg the boys on, but I personally don't call her names. What I do is more subtle, but it's maybe more cruel. I pretend to be her friend. She's very needy and has zero self-confidence (for obvious reasons) and so she puts up with our totally unbalanced relationship.

She sort of reminds me of this ugly girl at school who was totally in awe of me, who I used to let hang around just so I could do stuff like get her to hold my bag, keep watch for teachers, while I kissed good looking boys. Poor thing - giggle.

I'm very capricious with Cynthia, alternating between being friendly (but always in an extremely superior and condescending manner) and ignoring her. She never knows how I'm going to be on any particular day, or even during the day, since I chop and change as the mood suits me. She's my lapdog, if you know what I mean. Like I'll beckon her across to my desk -- "Hey Cynth," I'll drawl, crooking my finger at her, and over she'll trot. It really is quite pathetic and usually leads to an outbreak of cackling from the likes of Dean and Donny.

"Over she goes," they jeer, "Amber's best friend."

"Shut up guys," I say, but I'm grinning, so they know I'm finding it as funny as they are. "Don't worry about those bozos," I say to Cynthia, as she stands by my desk.

Then I go silent for a while, tap away at my keyboard as if she isn't there. Poor girl doesn't know what to do now, stands there shuffling from side to side, wanting to speak but scared to -- since I've made it clear to her many times how I don't like her interrupting me while I'm typing.

I keep this up for a few minutes, enjoying her discomfort, how the guys are sniggering at her, just kind of revelling in my power.

"Err ... Amber?" she finally manages to blurt out.

I look up and smile. "Cynthia!" I exclaim, as if I'm surprised to find her standing there. "How are you today?" I ask.

"GGGood. You?"

"Oh you know, same old same old," I say, sounding extremely bored with the exchange. I stretch my arms up and back and I yawn in her face. The stretching has the effect of pushing my spectacular breasts up hard against the flimsy material of my blouse and I'm deliciously conscious that every guy within eyeshot is ogling.

"Tell me something fascinating," I say to her.

"Er, well ..." and she tails off into silence. No surprise since not much that's fascinating, or indeed even slightly interesting, happens in Cynthia's life. Most noteworthy thing is probably what I'm telling you about here ... how I torment her.

"Oh forget it, sorry for asking," I snap.

"I'm sorry Amber," she grovels. Really pathetic, that, and cue for more sniggers from the guys.

"Hey Amber, she's sorry for not telling you something fascinating. How about that?" jeers Donny.

"Be quiet Donny." I keep a straight face as I say this. Then I wink at him. The guys know I have my own special way of torturing Cynthia and they enjoy it. It's great sport for them. Only one who doesn't like it is Gerald the Geek and that's because, as you know, he hates me.

I switch my dazzling smile back on for Cynthia, look her up and down and note how she's followed my patronising advice of a couple of days ago to try wearing her skirts a little shorter. This one isn't what you'd exactly call short but it does show rather more than usual of her horrible legs. A dreadful sight, to be honest, and I have to fight very hard not to laugh.

"Hey excellent Cyn! A shorter skirt. Showing off those nice legs of yours."

She knows I'm making fun of her but I'm her only "friend" and she's powerless to stand up for herself.

I'm enjoying myself now. "Hey guys, what do you think of Cyn's legs in this new skirt of hers? Pretty sexy eh?"

As I say this, I turn and grin at the watching guys. I swivel my chair round to face them and I slowly and teasingly cross my own legs -- my very gorgeous legs -- and let my skirt ride a few inches up my thighs. I keep grinning wickedly at them, enjoying how they're ogling MY legs when we're meant to be talking about Cynthia's legs. I lazily scratch a pretend itch under my skirt, tantalise them a little more. Giggle. The guys are drooling and I hear one or two throaty male groans. Their desire for me is palpable, I know it and they know that I know it.

Cynthia knows it too, poor girl, and she's also staring at my legs. Not with desire in her case, she's consumed with envy. I know she's being humiliated by what I'm doing here. Just as I'd intended, she's never felt more unattractive than right now, and she's feeling completely ridiculous in her new skirt. But she still has to stand there. She wishes the ground would open up and swallow her, yet my power over her is such that she can't go back to her desk until I say so. Until I dismiss her, as it were.

Which I will, but not quite yet. I'm getting off on humiliating her and I want to carry on a while longer. It really is a scream.

I grin over at Dean. He's smirking and I smirk back.

"So, Dean, what about you? You into Cynthia's legs?"

"Amber baby, I can hardly contain myself. The Dumpster's got it going on today."

The room falls about at his cruel and obvious sarcasm.

I join in the mocking laughter. Everyone is openly laughing at the poor girl now. Well all except Gerald the Geek, who's chosen to leave the room.

"There you go, Cyn," I chuckle. "You're a hit with the guys. Carry on like this and you never know, you might get a boyfriend and we can start double-dating and stuff, you and me."

"Would you like to double-date with me, Cynthia? You know, us two plus a couple of hunky boys. One for you and one for me. Would you like that, Cyn?"

"Oh yes, Amber," she has to say, even though the notion is absurd and saying how she'd like it just makes her look irredeemably ridiculous. Poor cow.

"Well, let's discuss it at our next girly lunch. You pop along and have a think about when we might arrange that."

And with this, I swivel my chair back round and start typing again. Poor little Cynthia, off the hook at last, flees back to her desk. The fun is over until the next time.

(4) AMBER AND HUNKY ROBERT AND POOR CYNTH

So that's pretty much a flavour of me and Cynthia. The ways I find to demean, degrade and humiliate her are endless. Told you I was a Bad Girl, didn't I? Guess you're starting to realise just how wicked I am.

Those "girly lunches" by the way, is when Cynth and me go to the local Italian for lunch. We do it every couple of weeks or so and it's a chance for me to really queen it over her, rub her nose in the difference between us.

Like as well as being physically unattractive, she's quite poor -- still lives with her parents in a cheap and crappy little flat, for heaven's sake -- whereas me, it's a case of the pretty girl is also a rich girl. I don't actually need to work, to be honest, I only do it because of all the fun I have at the office.

I live in a sumptuous apartment, paid for by Daddy. I took her round there once, gave her the guided tour on a Saturday afternoon, just so she could see the luxury I wallow in. See how privileged as I am, as well as being beautiful. TORTURE her with envy, was the idea. Giggle. I showed her the massive walk-in closet (miles bigger than her entire bedroom, she marvelled -- poor thing) with all my designer clothes, pointed out a couple of sassy little dresses and told her how much they cost (how much they cost Daddy, that is, since it's his charge card I hammer), knowing it was more than she'd get to spend in a lifetime.

Rub rub rubbing it all in.

"All this just for little old me, Cynthia, when people like you and your folks have so little. Life's not fair, is it?" I said, as I showed her round. God, I was laughing so much inside when I said that.

When we sat down in the lounge for coffee, I extracted a fifty pound note from my bag and held it over a burning candle, set fire to it and casually used it to light a cigarette. Giggle. Did this right in front of her eyes -- then sat there smoking while the note burnt away in the ashtray on the table between us. Christ, you should have seen her poor little face when I did that. £50 is probably a week's housekeeping for her mother, and there's me wantonly destroying it just to light a ciggie. Poor Cynthia has to sit there and watch it burn away, too scared to protest for fear of upsetting her only "friend".

That was really wicked of me, wasn't it? Yeah I know, I'm terrible.

Giggle.

I don't actually smoke that much by the way, in case you're wondering, don't really like the habit. Just sometimes I do though, because it can look quite cool and glamorous and sexy when a gorgeous young girl like me smokes a cigarette.

Things got worse for poor Cynth that afternoon. About three o'clock, the bell rang and I had a visitor. This very dishy guy called Robert arrived, just as I'd planned it, and I feigned surprise. Cynthia said she should maybe go, but I said for her to stick around and the three of us could hang out a little bit. Hanging out with a guy as yummy looking as Robert would have made Cynthia's year, of course. It was obvious how much she fancied him -- poor girl's mouth fell open when he walked in.

Robert's a guy I was dating and sleeping with at the time and, like I say, he and I have planned this. Pretty evil plan too. Because what happens is that Rob and me "hang out" and poor old Cynth gets to watch us doing it. As per usual she can't leave for risk of "upsetting" me, so she has to play gooseberry. Has to sit there, not speaking unless spoken to, while I get busy with hunky Robert on the big sofa.

We ignore her for a long time while we kiss and smooch. When I finally do speak to the poor girl, it's just to order her to fix a couple of vodka drinks and bring them over to us. I'm treating her like she's my servant. My maid. Which she sort of is, let's be honest.

I do actually have a Maid by the way, a real one, who Daddy employed for me -- since he says he doesn't want his "Princess" (that's me -- giggle) lifting a finger with domestic chores -- but I don't have her there at weekends. She'd have only got in the way, in any case.