Giving in to Temptation Ch. 06

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It had been three months now, and I still got a bit of a high every time I thought of that night with Emily and Candy. We fell asleep on the chaise, in front of the fire, wrapped up in bath sheets and each other, the scent of sex all about us. Morning was glorious. I found myself spooned against Emily, my cock pressed up against her ass. She, in turn, was spooning Candy, her face nuzzled in Candy’s neck, her arm buried into Candy’s magnificent breasts. Emily was rocking into me, teasing my cock into a full erection. Then, barely moving, she shifted enough for me to slip into her from behind, and rocked me gently into an orgasm. Hate to say it, but I fell asleep again.

Later that morning, I woke up alone. Heard the girls chattering, preparing breakfast. I had nothing to wear. So, naked, covered with the dried juices of our lovemaking, padded to the kitchen. They, too, were naked, save the apron worn by Candy as she prepared omelets. Life was good. We chatted through the morning until it was time to head our separate ways. I packed my bag and headed to the airport… SFO via a short stop in Chicago.

In between meetings in Chicago, I stopped by the spa. Olga had left. No, they did not know where she went. My heart sank a little, much to my surprise.

Consulting has its ups and downs. With this gig, one never knew what the source of a particular pleasure/pain might be. Lately, it’d been mostly pain, exacerbated with a couple of new team members – Ian and Poppy. Fuckin Brits. Last time I’d dealt with them in numbers was on assignment in the middle east.. Jeez, they walked around there like they still ran the empire. Unfortunately, sometimes that attitude trickled into our business as well, so I was skeptical when Ian and Poppy showed up. Company had like a thousand guys named Ian, most of whom appeared to be of the belief that since they went to Cambridge or Oxford or whatever, that they didn’t actually have to work or anything, just sound… well – British. This particular firm also believed in hiring hot women from UK finishing schools. So Ian, one of the project managers, and Poppy, the business advisor and self-acclaimed tech guru, had graced us with their presence now for two months, and they grew more irritating by the day.

Ian can be funny, if irreverent. The Brits evidently have no filter regarding contemporary America’s sense of sexual harassment in the office place, and act accordingly. My company, with ‘morally flexible’ standards as far as profits are concerned, turns a blind eye. “Jesus fuckin christ. Did you get a load of her tits?” Ian was referring to Poppy, picked by Ian himself for the program. And, her tits are magnificent.

He drones on: “I mean, back at the home office, the girls are, by and by, pretty hot, but” he continued “Poppy here … she’s quite all right, you know?” Cockney accent. And he’s an ass. But, one cannot argue, he is a fine judge of tits.

“Sorry Ian, I hadn’t noticed.” Not going to give him the satisfaction. He is, after all, an ass.

We’re sitting in the conference room, awaiting the start of the weekly meeting. Me, Ian, couple others. Poppy walks in. Blonde hair pulled into a bun, brown eyes, conservative if form-fitting dress down to mid-thigh. But square-cut opening at the top unabashedly shows off her firm tits and deep cleavage. The big boss walks in and we get started. Five minutes into the briefing, I get a text from big boss. “JFC, can u believe Poppy’s tits?!” Class act, he is, and not too concerned – or knowledgable – it seems, on the permanence of text messages on corporate phone accounts. I look at him and wink. Poppy gets up and begins her pitch. Her back to us, we all enjoy the form of her dress against her body. Rock hard calves, tight legs, thin waist, v-shaped back. And big tits. She’s a vision… very prim and proper. Laughs politely at big boss’s jokes, demurs when the boys speak roughly. Mostly though she’s talking shit, but big boss doesn’t care much.. she’s a treat. But a problem, as it turns out.

We get to my part, and the numbers don’t add up. My numbers. Not good. Hundreds of contracts, maybe ten times that in sub contracts, worth hundreds of millions. We’re off by five grand, and I can’t figure it out. Stayed up half the night trying. Poppy is happy to point out that, if Im given just a bit more time, she’s sure I’ll get it resolved. Ian piles on – no point in wasting an opportunity to climb a step on the office ladder it seems. Big boss smiles, talks about the quarterly reports coming up at the end of the month, and is certain I’ll get it done by then. “Steve,” he later says, “Don’t fuck this up. We have this contract, and you have your job, because you’re the expert.”

Meeting over, and weekend coming. Poppy has something fabulous planned (“Oh – doesn’t Everyone, Stephen?” – I hate being called ‘Stephen’ – “My boyfriend is here studying at Berkeley… we have a private wine tasting set up in Napa. Do you like wine?”) She goes on for too long about how her boyfriend is so smart and blah blah… I’ve tuned out. I”m tired. Of her. Of stonehouse izle my missing 5k. And likely I’ll be dissecting the financial controls program to find it. Worked until 10PM that night, then drove back to the hotel. Belle awaits behind the bar.

“Belle, thank god you’re here.” Know how to make a Manhattan?” She thinks she does, but she does not. Wrong bitters, for starters. I run up to the room, bring back my bottle, and walk her through the process. This is supposed to be lighthearted, but I’m afraid I’m irritated enough about work that I’m just coming off as an ass. Belle is more insulted than amused. At least I’m not clueless in reading women in that particular regard… I mean, I cannot read when they are horny but sure as hell can read them when they’re pissed. I blame my wife.

“Hey, Belle – I’m sorry… my feeble attempt at humor has run aground, and I’m afraid I’ve made you the victim. Please forgive me.” She does, with a hug and kiss on the neck. “It’ll be better tomorrow Steve – golf day, right???” She’s beaming again.

“Ahhh. Nope. Work tomorrow… prepping for an audit.”

“I’m sorry.. thats too bad. Supposed to be a really nice day, too… I’m going to the pool and work on my tan lines,”.. she giggles. “If its any comfort, I’ll be here all tomorrow evening… maybe we can try to make your Manhattan again.” Another hug, and I’m off to bed.

In the office at 7AM Saturday. With luck, I can figure this out and get an afternoon round in.

NINE hours later, and no resolve. I called some tech guys somewhere in Indonesia, who offered to make a copy of the program and do their own analysis. I accept and head out. Too late for 18, but 9 maybe. I arrive at the course 45 minutes later, drag my bag out and head to the pro shop. Played here many times by now, and know the pro, his staff, and the cart girls by name. As I walk down to the shop, I spot a woman, alone, standing by her bag. She looks latin. Dark hair, piercing eyes, light cocoa colored skin, without flaw or blemish. Maybe late 30’s. Petite, but nice muscle tone. Skirt a bit too long and shirt a bit too loose for my taste, but she seems attractive enough.

I go in, pay my fee, and head out to the first tee. She’s still there. No one else in sight. I really should have introduced myself, but was, frankly, more interested in blowing off steam. Shot 45… two 3-putts and an OB. Ugh.

The next week in the office is no better. Nope… still haven’t found the missing money. Yes, I know its my job, and our ability to do this well is why we got this contract blah blah… Pisses me off. Whats more irritating is that it seems to be Poppy pointing out the problem, and usually in front of big boss. Thursday was the worst. Meeting time, and Poppy with a short skirt, high on the waist, tight blouse with a couple buttons undone, not noticeable until she peels off her jacket. In front of big boss, just as he walks in. She then goes on about how we’re all ready, except for my small ‘problem.’ I get the look from big boss. Thursday night, 10PM, I’m still going over the program when the tech guys from Indonesia call.

“Mr. Samson, in short, you’re being embezzled.” Do tell.

“There’s an unattributed account number here, hidden from all the regular reporting. Someone dumped 5K into it from another account.”

“Can you tell who?”

“No, but it’s either you, or its someone with access to the encrypted account files.” Its Poppy. And I have proof.

“Anything else?”

“Ya, there is… Does anyone there get living expenses?”

“Sure – couple of Brits. Why?”

“One of them is getting twice the standard allowance… an extra 5K per month.”

“Can you tell who?”

“No, just an employee number.” I smile. Couple key clicks… Also Poppy. There is a god.

Now, I’m not a vengeful man. People make mistakes, humanity is flawed, and I’m a prime example. But don’t fuck with me. I don’t take kindly to being played a fool.

On Friday, I manage to convince Big Boss that I think I have the issue resolved, but need Poppy’s well-established expertise for maybe an hour at the end of the day to resolve. Poppy pushes back… fabulous plans and all.. but, given draft reports are due on Monday, I get my way.

5PM. Poppy walks in, sunglasses on, bag in hand, headed for the door. “OK Stephen, what is it?”

“I found our problem.”

“Well good for you! I’ll just be off then…”

“Shut the door Poppy, and have a seat.” She balks for just a second.

“I’m leaving now – you’ve solved your problem.. a little financial juggling I’m sure, right? If there’s anything else we can chat on Monday.”

“Shut the door and sit, now, or I’ll have your ass dismissed by midnight and arrested on Monday. Your choice.”

She laughs, turns, and heads down the hallway. As she starts walking away, I read out loud the account number. She freezes. “And, Poppy, I took the liberty last night of tracing the program changes back to your laptop. Now SIT.” She comes back to my super junior the last man standing izle office, sits, face ashen. I slide a legal document to her for her signature.

“What’s this?”

“Well Poppy, here in America, corporate HR folks these days get very nervous when execs have intimate relations with junior staff, and they’e advised us to have consent forms drawn up and signed, just so there are no complaints of harassment later on, if things don’t work out. I’ve had the corporate form modified a bit for our special circumstances.”

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! There is no fucking way I’m signing this.”

“I didn’t think you would.” I reach for the phone. “Would you please look on your phone for the number for corporate counsel? I wouldn’t want you to think I’m bluffing.”

“The hell I will.”

“Oh – did I also mention, I’ve also discovered you changed your pay account to double your living allowance. You didn’t actually spend that money, did you?”

“Godamit, OK – what do you want – a blowjob of something?”

“What I want is my professional reputation back. And the company’s $10K. And 80 hours of my life. But what I really want is to wipe that sanctimonious smirk off your face, and hold you accountable for your crimes, while at the same time not losing this account. Sign the papers. Don’t forget to initial each sheet.”

“W-what are you going to do to me?”

“Probably nothing you haven’t done before… in private, anyway. Its all in the document. Take your time, read it carefully. I’m going to get some water. May I bring you a glass?”

When I get back she’s sobbing, red-faced. She starts screaming at me. Unfair. Vicious. Disgusting pig.

“Poppy darling – I just wanted to cover all possibilities, should they come up. They might, they might not.”

“How dare you suggest such things… I would never EVER consent to this.”

“I know. Phone number to corporate counsel. You’ve looked it up I presume?”

“Goddamn you.” She’s glowering.

“Last chance Poppy. The next words – and I am being specific here – out of your mouth will be ‘Sir – I’ve read these papers, and agree with them, and have signed and initialed accordingly.” ANY other word or action other than I’ve just specified will result in your dismissal and indictment.” Her chest is heaving, cheeks flushed, cold sweat on her face and back. Hands shaking, she takes the papers back, signs them, and offers them to me.

“Poppy – I can see this is very emotional for you. You should go home now… we have a busy day tomorrow.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?? Tomorrow is Saturday, and I have plans.”

“Have you forgotten your agreement already? First of all, when you are with me alone you will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘master.’ Secondly, your time is mine, and you enter and are dismissed at my pleasure. Any breach nullifies our agreement, understood?” She sits in stunned silence.

“Excellent – I’m so glad you are so supportive. Tomorrow then. 8AM. With luck, we’ll be done by 4.” The look on her face is priceless. Something about a gallery opening at noon with boyfriend.

I swear, she looked like she aged 5 years over the course of that discussion. Maybe by tomorrow she’d get some color back in her face. My spirits were lifted considerably. Dropped the top to the Mustang for the ride ‘home,’ enjoying the spring air and the cruise over the Berkeley Hills, weaving my way through late evening traffic. And, later, Belle was very happy to unbutton her shirt and pull her bra strap aside to show me her new tan lines

Saturday, 8:05 AM: Poppy arrives. I’d been at the office since 6:30, and had all the draft reports prepared, so there wasn’t really much left to do.

Poppy, standing outside my office door, bag in hand. Wearing baggy shorts and a ‘jumper.’: “Now what?”

“Well, you can start by figuring out how you’re going to return 5K in excess living expenses to the company. I’ve already deleted the fake account and put the other 5K back where it belongs. Don’t worry though, I took care to do it all from your computer. My books are balanced, your actions are still on record. And don’t bother throwing your computer out the window. The guys in Indonesia have the entire program backed up.”

She’s glaring at me. I continue… “AND, I’m not going to tolerate your attitude. Failure to comply with our agreement both in letter and spirit will have consequences. Since I know you don’t have the 5K, how about making yourself useful and making us some fresh coffee?” She puts her bag down, gives me a ‘fuck you’ look, and heads toward the kitchen. I call for her to stop.

“One more thing. Remove your top. And your shorts.”


“I think what you meant to say was ‘yes, sir.’ And quite frankly, it is tiresome to have to re-threaten you prior to every action I direct of you. Unless you want to be utterly humiliated, I suggest you become more compliant. Quickly.”

Dejection super league the war for football izle the likes of which I’ve never seen. She lowers her eyes… “Yes, sir.” I sit back while Poppy peels off her clothes. Sports bra that flattens her breasts to her chest and boy-panties. A bit boring, but they do show off her rather remarkable body. Tight, flat belly… Ahh – youth.

When she gets back, I’m reading the weekend edition of the Journal. “Shouldn’t you be preparing the reports or something, sir?” She remembered. Good.

“Done. I’ve been here since 6:30. And by the way, you were late. So we’re here until 5 instead of 4.” She simmers.

“Sir, What am I supposed to do? And, are you not wasting time of the both of us?”

“Discipling spoilt brats takes time. Why don’t you go clean the toilets or something? Leave your clothes here.” She elects to sit on the couch in my office and simmer.

After 30 minutes, she speaks again. “So, sir, you’re doing this because you want a blowjob or something?” I put down the paper.

“What is it with you and blowjobs? Is that the current currency between the “Ians” of the world and priggish Brit schoolgirls?” She blushes, is silent.

I laugh to myself. “That’s it, isn’t it – you sucked off Ian to land this job. Jeez. Frankly, I’ve no reason to believe you’re any better at sucking dick than you are at embezzling. So, no thanks.

“But, if you want to earn some time back, you can buy back 30 minutes each for your panties and bra. Take them off, if you like.”

10 minutes later: “Fine, but no sex.”

“You presume too much. But, I’ll tell you what. Start masturbating. Right here, right now. If you get off in 5 minutes, I’ll knock off another two hours.” Poppy turns beet red.

Another 10 Minutes: “Fine.” She peels off her undies and starts to play with herself. Her frustration becomes apparent after a few minutes. Ever know that guy who can’t pee if someone’s in the stall next to him in the men’s room? Same thing here, I think.

“I cannot do it with you watching, sir.”

“Someone’s got to keep time.”

“Can I go to the conference room?”

“You might cheat. Nope. Do it here.” I pause… “Tell you what. No time limit. Get yourself off on the couch there, and we take two hours off your time today. No time limit.” She spends a half hour trying to get off. It had to be pretty humiliating. “Maybe you’re not doing it right.” She glares at me. “How’s your sex life, anyway? Does he get you off? When was the last time you masturbated?” No answer.

I continue: “If I were a betting man, I’d bet you might never have had an orgasm. Its OK Poppy – it’s not all that rare. Do you need some help?” She starts… Crocodile tears. Naked, sobbing. After a few moments, she speaks. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“Thats good. Thats a start. I forgive you.” She looks up in disbelief.

“You mean… that’s it? We’re done here?”

“Sir. You forgot to say ‘sir.’ Or master. No, we’re not done. We’ve just started Poppy… Just started. Don’t confuse forgiveness with atonement. Or retribution”

“R-retribution?” She pulls her knees to her chest. Her pussy is exposed to me, though she is unaware. It’s a beautiful pussy. Intricate lips swirling about… the kind of pussy one could play with for a very long time, learning its secrets.

“The next time you fail to address me properly, you’ll be spanked.” I pull a ruler from my desk drawer.

“Yes master.” She lowers her eyes. I like that… it opens all kinds of new thoughts.

“Yes Poppy. Punishment. Criminals get punished. The ones society has hope for feel remorse, as you now do. But, they still get punished.”


“Perhaps you should re-read the agreement.” I open my desk drawer, pull a copy, and hand it to her. “I suggest you actually read it this time, instead of simply glossing over. You should read things before you sign them. Good rule of business. And, it seems, you now have the time.”

She reaches for her clutch and pulls out some heavy dark rimmed glasses. Bookish, but they frame her features nicely – some Polish blood in her, perhaps? Czech? She reads slowly, carefully. Flips the second page and continues reading. Her nipples start to stiffen. She shifts on the couch. More color in her face now, and in her chest. Bottom of the 4th page her mouth drops.. after that its all caveats and boiler plate.

I catch her eye. “Some of the language is .. well shall we say – direct. But the meaning is clear, don’t you think?”

“Yes master.” I smile. “Do me a favor – read out loud the third paragraph, second page.” She flips to it and starts reading it again. “Out LOUD, please!”

Her face reddens. “the SLAVE (or “Poppy” – the terms are interchangeable insofar as the AGREEMENT is concerned) will submit to sexual acts upon direction, including but not limited to the following: Male/female petting, kissing foreplay, coitus, sex with third parties, teasing and denial, cunnilingus, fellatio, anal sex, role play, public sex, domination/submission, as directed by the master. Slave may anticipate delay/denial of orgasm, public humiliation or other actions of a sexual nature as determined by the master. The slaves life, health, safety will never be jeopardized. If the slave wants sex, or to orgasm, or to touch her pussy for pleasure – with the master, or anyone else – she must beg for it.” Weird. Thats where her nipples got hard. It just happened again.

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