Chapter Three
1346 Words
Chapter Three
Gretel Gets Off
Casper sat at his desk, basking in the afterglow of Gretel’s whipping. He looked up into her green eyes. “How do you do it?” he asked. “You gratify all of my secret, wicked desires. I don’t talk about lusting for women in girdles or women wearing long leather gloves. But you show up wearing both of them! I’m hooked on you, even if you are ruining my life.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Gretel kissed him on the forehead. She planted her hands on her hips. “You really came unglued over your ‘allowance.’ I nearly had an orgasm. Like I was your kinky aunt.” She walked over to her shopping bag, removed her purse, and opened it on the floor.
“She was my aunt by marriage.” His voice quavered.
“Relax, darling. That’s our little secret.” Gretel lifted the hem of her dress and began removing the small stacks of money from her stockings.
Casper stared at her, mesmerized again. “We weren’t related by blood.”
Putting the last bit of cash into her purse, Gretel snapped it shut and returned it to her shopping bag. “Seducing you is fun.” She walked to his desk and stood close to him. “And feel free to wallow in guilt. I love to make you pay for your guilt.”
His eyes opened wide. “How did you know about my aunt, anyway?”
“Don’t concern yourself with how I take advantage of you.” She cradled his head in her arms and pressed his face into her bosom. “Just enjoy it.”
“Oh, Gretel. I think I love you!”
“Tell my lawyer. I’d love to sue you for breach of promise.” She pulled his face tighter against her breasts to let him savor her soft warmth and fragrant scent, and then pushed him away gently. Her lipstick remained on his forehead, smudged but clearly visible. Gretel considered rubbing off the telltale sign but decided to let the ruby red commemorate her conquest, a clue to lead Kurt back to her. “Before you call Kurt,” she stretched luxuriously, “unhook my stockings.”
He fell to his knees. “See? I shot my wad while you were spanking me. But you can revive me with one command.” He felt his c**k stirring. The sight of Gretel’s thighs stupefied him and turned his hands into lead. He fumbled with each garter he detached.
“Hurry!” Gretel said, unhooking the last two garters quicker in her gloved hands than Casper could unfasten one with his bare hands. When Gretel raised the hem of her dress, gripped the top of her girdle with her thumbs and forefingers, and pulled up, Casper yearned to eat Gretel then instead of waiting for that night. But he refrained. Gretel perched herself on the edge of his desk. “Use the speaker phone,” she said, tucking the hem of her dress under her hips to keep her v****a accessible.
Despite Gretel’s spectacle, Casper managed to push in the speaker button and punch in Kurt’s office phone number.
“Kurt Merchant,” the voice came over the speaker.
Gretel’s gloved hand snaked under the rim of her girdle into her v****a.
Casper shielded Gretel from his view by cupping his left hand to the edge of his left eye. He read from Gretel’s note card: “Kurt, you’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much for BizMart that I’ve decided to fire you.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Gretel’s face was flushed. She closed her eyes to concentrate on fingering herself into waves of sensual delight. Her legs parted wider, and she lay back on Casper’s desk.
Instead of answering, Casper moved his finger to another line on the card. “You know how business brokerage is. We squeeze everything out of you and toss you aside, same as our clients.”
“Casper, I can’t believe you said that. That’s not how you do business. Or you’ve been fooling me for ten years.”
Surprise elevated the pitch in Kurt’s voice and tinged it with an inflection of hurt. The emotional timber in Kurt’s words spurred Gretel’s frenzy. He’s stoic, she thought. So, the pain runs deep. Not my fault! Casper’s the bastard who’s firing him! Gretel’s face contorted in glee. She slowed down her fingering to extend the ecstasy.
Casper read, “I always say virtue should never go unpunished.”
“Now I know that’s not you,” Kurt grumbled. “Is Rich Leckie behind this? Hell, Sidney Schisslinger says that kind of s**t all the time. Is he involved?”
For Kurt to identify three villains without suspecting Gretel sent a perverse frisson through her. Nudging a small fold of skin over her c******s, under her gloved finger, she rubbed vigorously. Her delirium veered out of control, forcing her eyes shut. She tried to restrain herself but a soft moan escaped.
“What was that?” Kurt asked.
The thrill of an orgasm at Kurt’s expense—while listening to his humiliation—tempted Gretel beyond reason. She started fingering herself again.
“Don’t change the subject,” Casper adlibbed before returning to the script. “We’ve drained all of the productivity we could out of you. Maybe some foolish company will hire you because they think you have something left.”
“You’re not making sense,” Kurt protested. Frustration and desperation gave his voice a slight, sharp edge.
“Or maybe,” Casper read the words slowly to highlight the direct hint, “you can find a new boss who can inspire and rejuvenate you. But you’re through here.”
Gretel luxuriated in sublime vainglory while she stimulated herself. The trap was closing on Kurt. He couldn’t escape, and his loss would be her gain.
“Let’s talk face to face, Casper.”
“Sure,” Casper agreed. “We’ll discuss your severance package, contingent on out-placement counseling.”
“Explain.”
“If you don’t go to BizMart’s designated counselor, you forfeit your severance pay. It’s in your contract.”
“Contracts are made to be broken.”
The tension heightened Gretel’s rush. Her fingers pumped like pistons. Ripples of delight ascended to another climax. If Kurt stubbornly gave up thousands of dollars to avoid counseling, swindling him and pinning the blame on Casper, it would drive Gretel into a gratifying orgasm. But if Kurt agreed to counseling, Gretel would rocket into paroxysms of voluptuous delight—at his surrender and at her ultimate ability to exploit him completely.
Casper studied the central note on the card: KURT MUST AGREE TO COUNSELING. PERIOD. OR ELSE. Gretel would ruin him if he didn’t bring Kurt into line. “If you try to break your contract,” Casper said, resignedly, “BizMart’s legal resources will outlast you in court.”
“OK, I’ll attend the counseling,” Kurt conceded.
And cascades of delirium pulsed through Gretel. She clenched her teeth to prevent herself from screaming, but she couldn’t keep her body from thrashing wildly on Casper’s desk. The continuous tides transported her to incredible ecstasy. After her c******s quit responding, pangs of sadness overcame Gretel because her wild ride ended.
“I’ll see you at five,” Casper said.
“No. I’m coming right now.”
Gretel dismounted Casper’s desk. “Stall him.”
“Kurt, give me time for the paperwork and a phone call.”
“Five minutes.”
They hung up. Casper turned off the speakerphone and called his administrative assistant. “Ms. Haversham, please bring me Mr. Merchant’s file.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gretel started to remove her right glove.
“Don’t take your gloves off,” Casper frowned. “You’ll mess up my desk. Or chair, or wherever you put those nasty things.”
Gretel stuck her gloved hand in Casper’s mouth. “Suck,” she commanded. “Consider it practice for tonight.”
His cheeks hollowed out while he obeyed her. After grimacing, Casper transformed his degrading chore into eloquent submission to Gretel. He quickly sucked her juices off her glove, gently removed her gloved hand from his mouth, and wiped off his excessive saliva with a Kleenex.
“Buy me another pair of gloves,” Gretel said, “so I can give you a hand tonight.” She peeled off her gloves and put them on his desk. Hurrying into Casper’s bathroom, she hooked the garters back to her stockings and put her sunglasses back on. No time to change into her frumpy dress. Her wig fit unevenly over the chignon, but the disarray of black tresses concealed the lump. Tossing her old dress and the dry cleaning wrapper into the shopping bag, she slipped on her tweed overcoat. She kept on her high heels instead of changing shoes.
After Ms. Haversham delivered Kurt’s folder and returned to the outer office, Gretel tottered to Casper’s desk. He stared at her.
“Wait until you see my outfit tonight,” she said. “I’ll bring you to your knees.” She put her gloves in her shopping bag. “Oh,” she pointed to the second note card on Casper’s desk. “That’s a theoretical question about Kurt’s future. Would he prefer lots of money, or a career that he thoroughly enjoys? Have him make a choice.”
Casper glanced at the card. “Kurt loves being a business broker, but he has a no-compete clause in his contract. He has no choice.”
Gretel leaned on Casper’s desk and stuck her face close to his. “Of course not. But I love to tantalize him with the illusion that he has a choice. Just like I tantalize you.”
- Writer
