School for Nurses (8 page)

She took a deep breath, and pushed her skirt down, letting it fall around her ankles so she could step out of it.

‘And the rest,' he said. ‘You show more than that on a tanning salon bench, Erica. Get on with it.'

She bit her lower lip, slipped her fingers into the sides of her bikini bottoms, and lifted them down off her blonde bush. She was still wearing the bikini bottoms from her midnight swim, the ones the photographer had caught her in, the bikini bottoms resting on breakfast tables everywhere this morning all across the country.

The chairman looked intently down at her mound, protected by lovely, curling blonde hair, and she knew better than to use her hands to try and cover herself. And she
liked
him looking, that was the vexing thing. She had to suppress a wanton urge to grind her hips and sway towards him. But she did sway a little she felt so light-headed, and shifted her weight from one high-heel to another feeling like a little girl standing in front of a stern headmaster. She would be bumping and grinding in his face soon if she let herself go...

‘At least now I know you're a natural blonde,' he remarked.

She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

‘Sit in that armchair and keep your legs open,' he instructed.

She sat down demurely, and her blush deepened as she made herself obey his command to keep her legs spread. Then he told her to lift her thighs over the arms of the chair, and totally unsettled her. But she obeyed him, and wriggled her bottom against the firm cushion as he studied her most private parts. She had to struggle not to let her excitement get out of hand as she concentrated on what he was saying.

He was summing up her job. She was the lead presenter on a sports quiz show. Sports personalities were invited to appear, and were asked questions. It was her job to tell them if they had the right answer or if they had gotten it wrong. She had met quite a few men during the filming of the show that had gotten her into trouble later. ‘I think that's what the problem is, Erica,' chairman Mathews concluded as he walked slowly back and forth in front of the chair on which she sat spread-eagled, keeping her gaping pussy in full view as he spoke. He never walked so far to one side that he could not keep looking straight at the exposed core of her feminine flesh, and she writhed beneath his assessing stare, unconsciously thrusting her vulva up towards his eyes. ‘Your trouble is that you can't keep your hands off these men. You can't keep your hands off the players, my girl. But that's all right, it doesn't have to be a problem. You're just going to have to learn to go all the way, that's all.'

The secretary, thank God, had been sent out of the suite before he told her to strip, but now Erica began wondering if that was such a good thing after all. She could sense where this was going, and she wasn't sure she should do what her throbbing, begging pussy wanted. Her mind told her to put her legs together like a good girl and talk business. Her cunt wanted her to slide forward in the chair, raise her legs and shove her feet behind her head so he could
really
look.

Chairman Mathews was walking back and forth in front of her, staring at her, and she could see the sight was affecting him. In his trousers - the sleek black trousers she had watched him zip up only minutes ago - a new bulge was becoming visible. The prick she had helped him put away was getting stiff again as his eyes lingered on her spread cleft and her soft blonde pubic hair.

‘What we'll do, Erica...' he paused, and abruptly stopped pacing to lean over her.

She shivered at how close he was, finally. Those bloody eyes! Why couldn't they be bloodshot and baggy? Your boss shouldn't have eyes like sapphires. It should be against the law!

‘What we'll do,' he went on quietly, ‘is let you have your fun, only we'll do it under the bright lights for all our viewers to enjoy.'

She looked breathlessly up into his gemstone-hard eyes. Was he going to touch her? Her mind was afraid of that new bulge in his trousers, but her body was thrilled by it. Her pussy was urging her to reach out and touch it to determine just how hard he was for her. He was looking deep into her eyes again. He hadn't done that since he came in his secretary's mouth. ‘What do you mean... for the viewers?' she asked, even though she really couldn't think straight. She was too busy concentrating on not letting herself reach out for him. She could not let herself, that much she knew for certain, or she would lose any negotiating power she had left. If she kept wanting to touch him so much, she was going to end up doing whatever he told her to...

‘You'll do it for your viewers,' he said. ‘You like to be seen, don't you?'

‘Do what, sir?'

‘What you're doing for me.'

Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What?'

‘When they answer the questions correctly,' he elaborated, ‘this is what they win.'

Erica looked up at him, not letting herself understand. The bulge in his trousers shifted slightly to the left. She could just put one hand out and trace its shape through the soft material...

‘We'll air the show later at night, post watershed,' he informed her, and smiled down into her uncomprehending eyes. ‘We'll get you a costume, some lovely lacy number that comes apart in bits.'

‘I don't understand,' she said, even as the thought of wearing a stripper's outfit that came off easily, one seductive piece at a time, made her push her hips up off the chair.

‘To make the show last, my pretty, the winners can be rewarded little by little for each question they answer correctly. First, they get to see this...' he grabbed her right breast, and squeezed it.

She gasped, and jumped in the chair from the totally unexpected pleasure of his sudden, possessive grip, and now all she wanted was for him to squeeze her other breast as well. ‘And... and if they answer all the questions correctly?' she asked in a husky voice, concentrating hard on not returning his touch.

‘That's just the start, my dear. When they've answered the first round, and your kit is all off, then they compete for positions.'

Erica struggled to stay seated upright in the chair. His face was looming directly over her face now, his breath mingling with hers, and she wanted his zipper down more than anything. ‘Chairman Mathews, I'm sorry, I...'

‘If you want to work in television ever again, Erica, you won't break our contract. You have to work for me no matter what I do to the format of the show, and I've decided on an adult format for our after-hours viewing audience. That's why I tested the public's reaction.'

‘The public's reaction?' she asked, and gasped again as his hand moved down to her belly and lightly stroked her bush. His fingers lingered over it, tormenting her. If only he would only put them where they belonged, inside her!

‘You see, Erica, all the pictures in the newspapers were
my
idea.' He smiled down at her again. ‘I hired photographers to follow you.'

‘It was
you
?' This admission of profiteering lust from him stripped the last vestige of professionalism from the interview, and suddenly she realised how utterly naked and helpless she was in every sense. Her whole being was as exposed and eager and greedy as the aching clit she longed to shove up into his mouth.

‘It was me.' His smile deepened as his fingertips gently parted the lips of her pussy and slipped up her slick labia to her throbbing button. ‘I know the public want to see more of you, so the sports stars get to fuck you live on television twice a week, the ones that win, that is. Only the ones that win are worth letting in, don't you agree?' And his hand started working on her.

‘Oh, God, I can't... I mustn't...'

‘You can, Erica, you're a natural. And speaking of winners,' he added, ‘let's let the first one in right now. On the floor, my dear, on your front. I want to show you your new position here at the station. This is the position you'll assume when the champions screw you. You'll be a very flexible prize.'

‘But...'

‘Face down on the floor, Erica. I'm sure you've been taken that way before.'

‘Not professionally...' she slipped out of the chair onto her knees.

‘These young athletes know how to get it into the net,' the Chairman said, ‘but it takes an older man to know what to do with it once it's been bagged.' He slipped off his black silk tie.

‘What are you doing?' she asked in a trembling voice, she was so eager for him to do it, to feel him inside her.

‘Put your hands behind your back,' he said.

‘Is this in the contract?' she asked faintly.

‘I'll have you spanked at the beginning of every show if you're not careful, Erica.'

Crouching forward, she put her hands behind her and felt him wrap the cool silk around her wrists twice before he tied a firm knot. She could scarcely believe she was kneeling at the foot of Chairman Mathews's chair with her bare bottom thrust up into the air. And suddenly, he hit her hard with the flat of his palm. The smacking sound of his hand coming down on her cheeks sounded incredibly loud in the wood-panelled room. ‘Ouch!' she cried, because this was something new to her. None of the men she had been with had ever raised a hand to her like this. The smooth flesh of her bottom stung terribly, and a tremor of mingled fear and desire forked through her belly and welled up into her throat in the form of a long, passionate moan. She ground her hips up and back, desperate to feel his cock inside her.

‘Would you like me to put that in your contract, Erica?' Chairman Mathews's eyes shone as he unzipped his trousers.

‘I'll do whatever you say,' she replied huskily from deep in her throat, and closed her eyes as he raised his hand to spank her again, and again. Then her cries of pain tapered out into a low groan of longing when she finally felt his weight against her. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, tears of frustration that she had lost control of herself, but then she forgot everything except for the sensation of his hand stroking her pussy. His fingers were teasing her, and getting her even hotter and wetter than she already was, which hardly seemed possible. At the same time her tears dried up as she accepted the fact that she didn't have a problem with being the Chairman's slut, she didn't have a problem with it at all, in fact. She was a public girl and she liked to be noticed and she would be in the public eye a great deal from now on. She pressed her face against the expensive carpet as she thrust her buttocks up into the air for him, and stifled a moan of disappointment as he pulled her cheeks apart, and slowly pushed his erection into her bottom, bracing himself on her hips as he got what he wanted, and she got what she could never have asked for out loud. He banged her with a vengeance, his blue eyes blazing, and she came and came as she accepted her new position and began her new public career when Chairman Matthews came in her arse.

Her arse was such a lovely rose colour from the spanking that Chairman Mathews declared she would have to come visit him before every show, so her viewers would get to see the best her body had to offer in full glorious colour, and he would put this clause in her new contract. He said he would make sure she gave herself fully to her public as he squeezed her sore buttocks. She moaned, her mind reeling as she felt him step in front of her. Her lifted her head up by the hair, and made her lick his erection. And she did it, she willingly licked the cock that had just come out of her bottom. He patted her blonde curls approvingly, and then untied her hands and told her to crawl over to the little bathroom, where he handed her a sponge and rubber gloves and ordered her to clean the floor.

‘You told me you would do anything I said,' he reminded her, casually slipping his tie back on.

Utterly dazed, Erica slipped on the pink latex gloves, picked up the sponge, and knelt down on all fours on the hard tiles.

‘Here.' Suds splashed out of the tin bucket he shoved towards her with his foot. ‘Now put some foam on your nipples, Erica, and turn to me at smile.'

She looked up at him without thinking, and the flash from a camera blinded her for an instant. The instamatic whirred, and a moment later Chairman Mathews was waving a drying print over her face. She saw a naked girl on her knees next to a bucket and a toilet, a sponge in her hand.

‘Now be a good girl, Erica, or I'll have to put this picture in the papers and show the world what you really are, an obedient little scrubber, not the glamour queen everyone wants to fuck. Clean my toilet before you leave, please.'

And while Erica scrubbed, he took more pictures of her, focusing especially on the lovely round, glowing bottom that would soon be the star of the late show.

 

 

Miss Smith was a schoolteacher in the last stretch of her first training year. She was blonde and pretty, her hair almost as short as a boy's, but her figure, more often than not exposed by tight T-shirts and jeans, made it abundantly clear she was a girl. Indeed, all the boys at her school, St Martin's on Tyne, never tired of looking at the shape of her lovely breasts nestling like perfect round apples beneath her blouse, with the stems of her nipples poking enticingly against the fine cotton. Nor did they tire of admiring her buttocks, tight as melons that made you want to squeeze them and dig your fingers into their soft warmth.