I operate my own small accounting business specializing in leasing its employees to moderate sized, well established firms; nothing very large, just a dozen or so associates at any one time. Any more than a dozen or so girls and I wouldn't be able to keep up with them. Yes, I only hire women, and only women of a certain type.
As I called Marsha Harrison into my office I thought about the first time I saw her. It had been six months ago but even then I knew, almost immediately, that I would hire her. She was perfect for my taste.
Marsha was young and trim. Body shape is very important to me and I like my girls to be just right, neither too fat nor too slender. She had mousy brown hair, but it was cut shoulder length and flipped under just so. The moment I first saw her I imagined my hand sliding along her neck under that hair, under that flip, and then pulling her forcefully to me. I didn't do that then, of course, but very soon I would, maybe even today.
Marsha had been dressed that first day much as she was today, conservatively but stylish. I don't like girls that are too forward or overly fashion conscious, but I do like intelligent women with a sense of taste. My kind of girl liked to follow modern trends, not set them.
So she stepped into my office and sat in the same chair she had interviewed with the firm in. Marsha had only been in the office a number of times since then. I had a long track record of making sure my employees fitted seamlessly within my client's corporate structures and I only kept a few key employees here at the home office. The firms I dealt with prized loyalty and service above all else. Oh, and discretion too, my girls were very discreet. To a girl, they were very discreet.
"Thanks for coming in today, Ms. Harrison," I began. I always treated my girls formally and demanded the same civility from them, whether in public or in private. I believe that decorum is an essential element missing from most relationships these days. People just don't act very civil with each other in modern society. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe in civility.
"It's very good to be here, Sir," Marsha replied cheerfully. That was very good. A cheerful employee is a productive employee, I always say.
"So tell me, Ms. Harrison, how has Riosen Industries been treating you? Have you enjoyed the last six months working at their facilities?"
"Oh yes, Sir," Marsha replied with a pleasant smile. "Everything is very nice there. They've made me fit right in."
"You've done an excellent job from everything they've told me, Ms. Harrison," I said affably. Then, growing serious, I picked up a stack of manila folders from my otherwise uncluttered desk and stepped around to sit beside her. As we turned in our chairs to face each other, I paused dramatically and then told her, "However, certain... anomalies... arose when I audited your accounts. I've called you in today to explain them to me."
'Anomalies!' I love that word personally. To an accountant the word anomaly has the same dread as the word 'cancer' to a patient at a doctor's office. Tell some bookkeepers there are anomalies in their ledgers and they might well faint. As was planned, that's exactly the way that Marsha was reacting. She was a good girl, absolutely perfect, so far for my needs.
"I can't imagine..." Marsha trailed off, her pretty face suddenly clouding over and her brow lining with concern. I'm sure she couldn't even imagine something like this. I preferred women whose minds were uncluttered with an active imagination. Intelligence and imagination are not always inseparable and I had become quite adept at picking out intelligent women with almost no imagination whatsoever! Thankfully, such women tended to gravitate towards accounting, my own specialty.
"Let me show you some of the things I've uncovered then. I'm certain there's a reasonable explanation," I said, shaking my head slightly as though to cast doubts upon the optimism of the very words. Reaching forward, I handed Marsha the first incriminating piece of evidence.
It was a bank record showing several transfers from Riosen accounts to ones controlled by our firm in general and Marsha specifically. Such transfers could be justified on occasion; in fact I had already justified them. I had the paperwork all in place if Marsha were to call it into question. Before she had time to consider that, I showed her the second piece of information, unauthorized drafts transferring monies from the firm's accounts to Marsha's personal bank account at the same bank. "That's not my signature on the drafts, by the way, even though, as you can see, someone has very clumsily tried to forge it. Do you recognize the account number for where the money was transferred? You should Ms. Harrison, it's your own account."
"Wait, I didn't do this..." Marsha began, trying to defend herself. Rather meekly too, if I might say so.
"Before you go on, Ms. Harrison, let me show you what else I've uncovered through the help of a contact I have with the bank," I told her. I showed her checks drawn on her own account that had only very recently cleared the bank. Checks paying off her car loan, making several payments in advance for her apartment rent, and finally a rather nice check to a local jeweler. As she studied the checks, bearing what appeared to be her own signature, I rose from my seat and walked behind her.
"Mr. Jacobson, I never... I don't know what to... I've never even been to this place," she said when she could finally finish a sentence. Marsha slumped back in her chair, looking sad and miserable.
"I hope you like these pearls I picked out," I told Marsha gently, throwing her bewildered mind further into confusion. She was so stunned that she sat perfectly still as I clasped them to her neck. "They look lovely on you, my dear. Then again, they should. You spent enough of Riosen's money on them."
"Wait, I didn't..." Marsha began to protest, again. Slowly, by degrees it began to dawn on her. Of course she didn't.
The young girl stood up, looking very much like a rabbit ready to bolt. I really enjoy that in a woman, that look of vulnerability. I wasn't too concerned about her bolting, there was only one exit to the room and I positioned myself to where I was standing right by it. "We have to resolve this Marsha, one way or the other before you leave this office. If you go right now, I'll immediately call the police."
Like a wild animal caught in the open Marsha looked so defenseless and exposed. She looked almost naked before me. I knew we wouldn't be interrupted. I had sent all my office staff on important errands, and besides, all of them would know better than to interrupt me. They were all my girls, after all. All of them had taken their turns in this office and would take them again before too long.
"Mr. Jacobson, I don't understand," Marsha said guardedly, as she wrung her hands in front of her trim stomach. If she didn't, she truly was unimaginative. Most of my girls had figured out the story by now. "I didn't do any of these things, I promise you."
"Personally, I believe you," I told the frightened girl gently. "But all that really matters is what the police will believe if we were to call them. The money has been taken, it's been spent on luxuries for you, and it's been used to pay off your personal debts. It all looks very incriminating to me."
"But I didn't..." Marsha insisted. Then, suddenly becoming imaginative, she began to take off the pearl necklace. A pity, I thought; it looked lovely on her. "I'll pay it all back, Mr. Jacobson. I don't want the money, really! I do nicely on my salary, I promise."
She took off the necklace and held it out for me to take. When I refused to reach out and grab it, she placed the necklace on the edge of my desk.
"I'm afraid replacing the money isn't an option, Marsha. It would only look like a further admission of guilt. As far as doing nicely on your salary, you should. I pay well. It's a shame you got greedy and wanted more, though."
"But I didn't get greedy," she stated emotionally. Tears started to form in her eyes. The first small trail appeared on the outside of her left eye. Her eyes were a deep, dark brown, I noted casually, not usually paying attention to such things. Brown eyes to match her brown mousy hair.
"Greed isn't necessarily a bad thing, Marsha," I told her gently. "I'm greedy, I'll admit it. That's how I run a successful business. Personally, my favorite deadly sin is lust. I lust after beautiful, young girls like you." It was a bit of a lie, of course. Marsha wasn't really beautiful, merely pretty. Still, flattery is acceptable when a gentleman is first approaching a girl, especially a young girl.
"You did this," Marsha said flatly, her predicament finally dawning on her. Her shoulders slumped and everything about the pretty girl seemed to slump with them. It was the perfect time for me to move in closer. No longer was there a need to guard the door.
"Yes, I did," I admitted just as my left hand went around the young girl's waist and my right reached forward to cup her C-cup breast at the same moment. Touching her brought Marsha out of her stupor almost immediately. She struggled, somewhat pathetically really, pushing herself away from me with her tiny hands on my chest.
"Stop that, Marsha," I said forcefully, squeezing her breast firmly in my grip. "If you don't cooperate I'll be forced to call the police."
"Yes, call them," Marsha murmured, still struggling to escape my tight grasp.
"There's the phone, darling," I told her endearingly, clutching Marsha's tender ass cheek in my larger hand for the first time. "Do you want to explain to them about your car and your apartment?"
"You can't get away with this," she continued resisting, even as I went to kiss her. She turned her head first one way, then another as I pressed her back against the desk. Finally, my lips captured hers and my swift tongue invaded her mouth. Her breasts and her bottom were already mine to feast on, and now her lips too!
After an unfortunately brief kiss, I pulled away and, breathing somewhat heavily, assured her, "I've gotten away with it quite a few times, you little tramp. You think you're smarter than all those other girls."
"I'm not a tramp! Stop this!" she spoke up louder as she tried to squirm away from me. Unfortunately, the desk and my firm hold on her anatomy prevented her. Smoothly I switched hands between breast and ass to minimize the risk of bruising. Still, a little bruising wouldn't hurt, so I still squeezed her firmly once I got ahold of her again.
"You are a tramp, throwing yourself at your boss when he caught you stealing. Maybe even a whore, a whore does it for money, doesn't she?"
"I'll scream," she threatened as I came in for another kiss.
"Scream then, bitch," I growled, becoming irritable. Then, raising my own voice, I announced, "They won't help you. I fuck every one of those bitches too."
Marsha was stunned. She didn't know we were alone so she was stunned as I pushed her back onto the top of the desk and stunned as I stepped between her spread legs. Of course, they weren't spread that far open, but I bulled my way through the narrow gap and charged ahead.
Putting my left hand into her hair and pulling her head back, I grabbed her firmly by the neck with my big, burly right paw. I've found that most women can really be intimidated when a man has his hands around their throat. Especially if it's an aggressive man who gets right up in their face.
"You've made me angry now, Marsha. First stealing from me and now making a scene. Now lets be civil, darling," I said with viscous irony, practically spitting the words into her scared little face. Feeling myself starting to lose control like I had not done in years, I breathed deeply and clamped down on those dark feelings.
Before letting go of her, though, I pulled her hair a bit more and told her firmly, "No more struggling about now, Marsha. Do as I tell you and no one will get hurt and no one will go to jail."
She was so shocked; her delicate sensibilities so brutalized that she didn't struggle, even when I quickly pulled down her panties and panty hose. She didn't even struggle that much when she saw me pulling down my trousers. It was only when I pried her legs apart again and stepped inside them that the full effect of what was about to happen dawned on her and she started to struggle a little again.
This was the crucial point where my years of experience played their part. I didn't just immediately take her. That was never my only purpose.
Years of studying people had helped me pick out girls that were just suited to my needs. I choose them on the basis of what I thought that they would do at just this moment, of what I thought they would say.
Putting my left hand into her mousy brown hair again, I ordered her in a strained, controlled voice, "Ask me to fuck you!"
It was an important demand. I chose girls that were impressionable, that were malleable. It wasn't enough that they just be submissive. I chose girls with a strong sense of guilt and shame, girls that would always feel that somehow they were partly to blame when they asked me inside, even if that request had been extremely coerced.
"Ask me, Marsha!" I commanded. "It's the only way to avoid jail."
"Please," she said very softly, her tears starting to flow again.
"Please what, Marsha?" I demanded to know.
"Please, don't," she said meekly.
"Not good enough, Marsha," I said, nearly raging again as I pulled her hair back. Picking up the receiver of the nearby phone on the desk, I threatened to bludgeon her with it in my right hand. "Should I call the cops right now?"
"Please, don't," she whined again.
Again, I threatened to bludgeon her with the phone and railed at her, "Don't say please again, girl, unless it's to say, 'Please fuck me, Mr. Jacobson.'"
Marsha looked near to passing out with fright, so I quickly changed tactics with her. Setting the phone down easily, I pulled her into me, scooting her over the desk until I was directly between her thighs. Pulling aside her skirt, I prodded her naked thighs and sex with my rampant cock, getting it closer to her squirming hole.
"Ask me, Marsha," I commanded her again, more gently this time, drawing her to me as I kissed the frightened girl lovingly. With one hand pulling her closer, and the other approaching her breasts more tenderly this time, I said softly, "I know how to be tender too, Marsha. Ask me now. I'll show you how you can enjoy it. Please Marsha, for your own good, ask me now."
Gently I kissed the poor girl, playing the mature suitor now. She softened somewhat, preferring the gentler approach to the madman, but still she refused to relent.
More tenderly this time, I fully spread her thighs and guided my prickhead to her cleft. Marsha whimpered and braced herself, no doubt expecting the brutal thrust that didn't come.
But again, I paused to ask her, "Please Marsha, ask me in. Don't force me to rape you." It was a stupid argument, but women are stupid beasts, just as we men can sometimes be.
Then I heard a woman I had specifically picked out, a very malleable woman, tell me, "Please Mr. Jacobson. Please fuck me." She hadn't been the first.
It was so tempting to just thrust hard inside her. I'd done that before and it had felt so good, so right, but it had also spoiled things for the future. So now, with this new girl at my whim, I controlled that which was hardest for me to control -- my own passions.
"Sure, Marsha. I'll do it for you, darling," I told her, drawing her into my arms as I did before slowly starting to press gently into her pussy with my hard shaft.
She was dry and tight, but that's what made it feel so good. That's how I knew I was forcing her to do something she really didn't want to do. So when, at about a quarter of the way in, I began gently thrusting back and forth so she would start moistening up as I went deeper, it was almost a disappointment. But, it was a necessity. Her dry cunt would have rubbed my cock raw if I had continued to just press in all the way.
"Oh, Marsha! You feel so tight, baby," I crooned to her, dragging her hips closer to the edge of my desk. I pulled her head to me and again we kissed, this time more gentle still. I felt the young girl's tongue begin to stir and continued to kiss her until, after a long while, I felt her tentatively kissing me back. All this time I kept up my gentle rocking thrust into her delicate vagina.
"Yes, Marsha! That's so right, baby. Just spread your legs a little more, sweetheart," I moaned in her ear. Without consciously considering the consequences, Marsha did spread her thighs a bit more. Then, as she moistened up, her pelvis began to rock in time with mine.
"This is so much better, sweetheart. I'm so glad you let me in, honey. Your pussy feels so good like this," I whispered, tonguing her ears and kissing down her neck. The poor, inexperienced girl was nearly delirious, first being shoved in one direction and then another, now being tenderly fucked.
I began taking longer strokes and Marsha began moaning, too. She leaned back a little more and I leaned forward, pressing into her deeper and harder. "That's it, Marsha. That feels so good, honey! I want you to cum with me, Marsha. Come on, baby! Enjoy it with me. Let yourself go and just enjoy it. It's only us and it feels so good!"
The young, impressionable girl was panting, leaning back against my desk on her elbows as she tossed her head about. I really didn't think she would climax, and didn't much care one way or the other. Still, I was a bit away and it would be a fun thing to see that kind of reaction from a first-time girl.
Pulling up her skirt even more, I wet my thumb in my mouth and reached between us to start gently rubbing her clitoris. She had a large, swollen button, bigger than most of my girls, so it was easy to find and play with. As I caressed it, she leaned back even further and began to get into it even more.
Despite myself, I began to enjoy the fact that she was enjoying it, too. It often happens with my girls and me. The supreme fun is in the taking but once they're mine, I feel myself getting tender with the dear little whores. So even as my hips began to fuck Marsha more roughly, my thumb teased that large, swollen clit so she enjoyed it even more. We both approached our climaxes at roughly the same moment.
Except the little slut beat me too it! She began to orgasm at least a full twenty seconds before I shot my hot semen into her slutty, climaxing hole. The humiliation and being forced to submit must have really aroused her. Only a true whore would get off so hard when she was being forced and raped.
I continued thrusting hard for as long as the sexy little piece was cumming. She seemed to go on forever and ever, even after my poor cock shot his wad. Still, she was a sexy little bitch, flouncing around on my desk like a puppet with a pole jammed up her ass.
That would have to wait until another visit, though. Most girls wouldn't come back for more if you forced anal on them in the first visit. I'd lost two good girls that way. Not Marsha, I told myself. Not this hot little darling.
So instead, I continued to thrust gently into her every so often as we both cooled down. She looked up at me, her face flushed with a mix of passion and embarrassment. She looked just gorgeous, as beautiful as I had said when I had been lying.
"You'll come back into the office at least once a week or so for now," I told my newest girl gently. "You still have to finish your training."
Marsha flushed again at that. Whether from embarrassment or excitement, I couldn't tell. Next time I'd make her lick me clea
n after we fucked, then I'd teach her oral. Then, finally, when she was fully committed, I'd bend her over the desk and grease her tight virgin ass up."I'll take care of the money part of it, for now. There's still a little extra in your account. Enjoy it. Your rent will be paid from there from now on too," I softly explained. The continuing leaching of the account was important for the future. I had to keep something over her head as insurance.
"Buy some nice clothes, sweetheart. Oh, and by all means, keep the necklace. It looks beautiful on you." I handed her the string of pearls, still thrusting gently inside her as my prick got softer. When Marsha went to put the string of pearls back on around her neck, I knew she was mine.
Another girl. Another beautiful, malleable girl!