Office Politics

“I’m bored.”

Rhianna looked up from her computer.  Kirti, her boss, was lounging over her desk, eyes flickering around the office.  A tall, slender Indian woman, Kirti was fast approaching forty but doing well to hide the fact.  Her pale brown skin was still smooth and unblemished.  One had to look hard to spot that it had a slightly artificial sheen; and that was even before the daily mask of subtle cosmetics had been applied.  Any grey traitors in her long black her were rigorously dyed out.  Rhianna also knew that more than a little surgery had been required to maintain that statuesque, hourglass figure.

“And horny,” Kirti added; unnecessarily because Rhianna had already recognised the signs.  She shrugged and logged off her computer.  She had no work which couldn’t wait.  Rhianna herself was a black woman who, though only in her mid-twenties, was rather less careful about her figure.  She would describe her 38D bust and ample hips as cuddly; others might call her borderline obese.  She was as unkempt as Kirti was elegantly tailored, wearing scruffy blouses and trousers and her frizzy hair in an unruly ponytail.  They made an odd couple physically but the two women were close friends.  And together they ran the office.  Kirti was manager, Rhianna head of HR and Kirti’s unofficial assistant.  They ran their domain rigidly and took advantages that other bosses wouldn’t dream of.

Take Mei and Lao, for example.  Chinese sisters who had been hired six months ago solely because Rhianna and Kirti wanted to fuck them.  So they did, frequently, and the girls let them.  Neither were actually lesbians but they had been brought up in fine Chinese traditions of deference and humility.  Timid and silent, they were overawed by their bosses.  And they had no qualifications and needed their jobs; and it had been explained to them that doing anything they were told to was a condition of their employment.  Several evenings a week they were told to present themselves to Kirti’s house wearing very few clothes, none of which they wore for long.  But the acts weren’t confined to out of office hours.  Rhianna first arranged for half an hour’s cover for Mei.  Small, slender and very pretty, with a heart-shaped little face, she was a good choice for the reception desk.  Then the black woman murmured in the ear of Lao who, being taller than her sister but nearly twice as wide, had been banished to accounts.  Soon the girls were stood in Kirti’s office.  The Indian woman diverted her calls and pulled her blinds down.  Without even waiting for a command, Mei and Lao began to undress.

Kirti sat on her desk and pulled down her expensive skirt and knickers.  She parted her slender legs.  Mei obediently crouched beside the table and stuck her tongue into the waiting vagina.  Meanwhile Rhianna had also removed her lower garments and slumped in Kirti’s chair.  When Lao kneeled in front of her, she wrapped her thick lips around the girl’s shoulders and drew her into her groin.  Both of the managers closed their eyes and leant their heads back.  For a long time there was no sound in the office beyond the slurpings of two busy tongues and the increasingly loud, ecstatic moans of two happy women   And soon the ritual would have been completed.  They should have dressed again, washed their faces and gone back to work.  But this time something went wrong.  As Kirti was groping in her drawer for her dildo, in order to stick it up Mei’s ass and watch the bewildered pleasure on the girl’s face, the door handle turned.  Kirti just had time to wonder if she had remembered to lock the door when it opened.  Peter and David walked in.

The two men were her only challenge to absolute domination of her office.  David ran a rival department of the same company.  Peter was a recent appointment who supervised them both.  Kirti suspected he had been hired solely to break her power.  She had held him at bay so far but loathed him and his new ally David.  They were both quite young but depressingly old-fashioned laddish extroverts.  Remarks which were racist, sexist, homophobic or all three were never far from their mouths.  Despite exploiting vulnerable members of her staff, Kirti considered herself very politically correct.  She was an ethnic minority lesbian, after all, a member of three repressed groups, and considered it her duty to take the men to task.  She looked at the intruders with horror and recognised the leer on their faces.

“Got you,” Peter said.

Both women froze for a second.  Kirti was the first to recover.  She pushed Mei away, pulled her knickers and skirt up and sprang off the table.  While Rhianna was still fumbling with her pants, Kirti was confronting the men with her hands on her hips.

“What do you want, Peter?” she demanded.  “We don’t have an appointment.”

“And you can drop that tone,” he smiled.  “You’re fucked, Kirti.  I’ve just fucked you.”

“Because of this?  I know you screw your own secretary.  Don’t pretend otherwise.  They both gave their consent.  Didn’t you?”  The Chinese girls were still too shocked to speak.  But it was Peter’s next words which struck Kirti dumb.

“No, not because of the dyke love-in.  Though it doesn’t look good, does it?  Consent or not, it’s still not the best use of office time.  Actually, though, I was talking about this.” He held up a thick file.  “Evidence of you and your fat mate systematically defrauding the company over the past year.  It’s all in here.”

Rhianna had risen but had to sit down again now.  She thought she was going to faint.  They had been…. They had been so careful, she was sure they had.  Nobody could have found out.  And now… She only dimly registered Peter’s speech continuing.

“…quite a decent amount too.  Enough to put you too away for a fair old time.  Course, you might enjoy prison, what with all the dykes in – And cut that out,” he added as Kirti made a blind grab for the folder.  “I’ve got everything backed up on disc anyway.  Face it.  You two are in the shit.”  He paused.  The women stared at him in horror.  “But I might deal with this internally,” he finally said.  “Your sterling work over the years and all that.  I think I can sort you out.  That’s what I was brought in to do after all, sort out problems.  We’ll see.  Turn around and bend over the desk.  You too, chubby,” he called to Rhianna.  “Get over here and do the same.”

In a dream, Rhianna obeyed.  She bent down beside Rhianna across the hard wood.  Her skirt was thrown over her waist.  A moment later she felt fingers tugging her pants down.  She did not protest, even stepped up obediently to let her knickers be pulled over her shoes.  Beside her Kirti was letting herself be half undressed just as passively.  The two women were still in shock after Peter’s revelation.  Rhianna’s mouth was hanging half open.  Her knickers were roughly shoved into it.  They were tied tightly around her head to gag her.  She glanced over her shoulder and saw each man was unlacing one of their shoes.  When she looked again, a minute later, David was rearing up behind her with his shoe raised.   Rhianna still did not comprehend what was happening until the soul landed heavily across her backside.

She screamed in her throat but the sound only came out as a muffled grunt.  The blow was like an electric charge flashing through her body.  A second later her skin started to throb dully.  But that was blown away as the shoe landed a second time.  Rhianna tried to jump up but suddenly David’s other arm was on the small of her back, pressing her to the desk.  The shoe landed several more times in swift succession.  The shock wasn’t quite so bad now that she could prepare herself for it.  But the ache grew in force each time.  A prickling had also started running across her skin, like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into her.  She bit hard into the gag.  She had finally made the connection between the beating and Peter’s talk of ‘internal discipline’ and realised that, painful and humiliating as this was, she would have to accept it.  Glancing to her right she saw Kirti also pressed to the desk, also gagged by her own knickers.  The Indian woman’s teeth were bared as she bit hard into the sensuous black lace.  Her eyes were screwed tightly shut.  Then Peter’s arm dropped and a crack echoed around the office.  Kirti’s head jerked back, her long hair slapping across her face.  A second later Rhianna forgot about her boss as hard leather struck her own backside again.

It did so time after time.  At first Rhianna was unconsciously counting the blows but lost track at around twenty.  By then the ache from her cheeks had become intense.  Even in between the blows she was shaking her head back and forth, trying to find an outlet for the pain.  And when the shoe struck her increasingly tender skin once more, the agony was exquisite.  More and more it felt beyond the level of physical contact and seemed that she was being burned.  It was awful.  Rhianna’s sole comfort after each stroke was that it had to be the last one, she would surely be released now.  But she wasn’t.  On and on the punishment went, each blow landing with the same quick rhythm.  The echoes of leather striking flesh and the muffled squeals of the chastised women continued rolling around the small office.  Rhianna should have had the comfort of her cushioning layer of flab.  But she had never been good at pain.  Once she had caned a girl – another secretary – and despised how quickly her target became a blubbering wreck.  She was sure she would retain her pride for longer.  She didn’t, however.  She was soon weeping, shaking, pleading silently into her gag.  And Kirti was faring no better.  Martin’s strokes were almost falling straight onto her bone.  She was suffering even more than Rhianna and coping with it no better.  The two women lay helplessly across the desk, faces contorted, eyes swimming with tears, heads thrashing, fists pummelling the wood, while their brown cheeks were turned scarlet.  All under the astonished gazes of the two Chinese girls formerly under their power.

Finally the strokes ended.  Rhianna’s skin was smarting so badly that she didn’t notice at first.  The pain was almost as intense in between each smack as it was when they landed.  But she gradually became aware that the throbbing was growing less severe and the sharp cracks had stopped.  The women were pulled upright by their tormentors.  Their knickers were untied from their heads.  They were ordered to put them back on and get dressed.  They obeyed without a word but with many pitiful whimpers and moans.  Rhianna glanced at Kirti as she covered up her tender cheeks.  The Indian woman was rocking unstably on her high heels, her head down and tears streaking down her cheeks.  Rather than the proud, haughty woman Rhianna knew before, she looked defeated and broken.  The sight increased Rhianna’s sense of being in a dream; except that the throbbing from her ass told her otherwise.

“Excellent first stage, ladies,” Peter said.  “I think we’d better continue this at my place.”

It took a few moments for them to comprehend his words.  “What?” Kirti asked dully.

“Back to my house, if you don’t mind.  We’ll drive.”

The dread inside Rhianna deepened until it had no bottom.  Peter and David had had the temerity to spank them in the office with dozens of people outside the door.  There was no telling what they might to in the privacy of Peter’s house.  But she knew she had no choice.  It was not, she realised, simply that the men could get her fired and arrested.  The spanking had established their dominance over her.  Rhianna had never experienced a feeling like that, at least not since she was a child.  She loathed it but felt she could not resist.  For the moment at least, Peter and David controlled her.

Mei and Lao were instructed to wait in the office.  The other four trooped out into the car park.  The few people they passed in the corridor glanced curiously at them, wondering why the women looked so uncharacteristically subdued.  Fortunately the car park was deserted.  Kirti got into Peter’s car, Rhianna into David’s and they were both ordered to climb into the back and lie on the floor.  A few moments later Rhianna felt David lean over and grip her arms.  Then she could not separate them.  A pair of leather cuffs had been fastened to her wrists, fixing them behind her back.  Still the black woman did not protest.  All she did was sob gently to herself throughout the uncomfortable, terrifying ride.

Peter lay in a large detached house in the suburbs.  David took Rhianna indoors and upstairs.  She did not see what had happened to Kirti.  When she was pushed into a tiny attic bedroom and ordered to lie on the floor, she feared the worst for herself.  But the worst was not coming just yet – although it would.  David bound her ankles together with more cuffs.  More rope was fastened to a leg of the bed so Rhianna was attached to it, her body arcing uncomfortably backwards.  Finally he gagged her again.  This time he didn’t use her knickers but a large rubber ball which was shoved into her mouth and strapped behind her head.  With his black captive thus helpless, he headed to the door.

“Well, got to get back to work,” he called over his shoulder.  “See you later, nigger.”

The door slammed shut.