A Dish Best Served Cold

It was a stupid disagreement. I was eating breakfast and drinking coffee during our weekly conference for my job. Tom, a co-worker was a notorious germophobe, and COVID was his personal apocalypse. He came up to me after conference and confronted me, in front of everyone: “Herman, you had your mask off during conference. You got to keep it on. You’re not even supposed to be eating in here.”

I lashed out; I should’ve held my tongue. But lots of people were eating, and he wasn’t even boss. He had no authority over me. “Tom, have you guys decided that there’s a no food policy in the meeting? No? Then don’t put your shit on me.”

He turned around and walked back to his seat. I was all fired up and walked out of there in a fire of furious rage. What the fuck? I couldn’t take an insult like that lying down.

Other people from my group called me to apologize on his behalf. He was a little rich boy, never been in a fight; others did his apologies for him. Days went by, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally, I was left with the only solution: I had to get his wife to suck my dick and film it. Fuck her in front of him.

I know, it’s not the simplest way to quit being angry at someone for acting like a prick, but I didn’t choose to be like this, I just … am like this.

I’m old fashioned; I still fuck women exclusively. Otherwise I’d figure out a way to sodomize him. It would be more direct, but I would have to settle for his wife, Carly.

I went online and studied Tom and Carly’s wedding pictures. You can read everything in a person’s facial expressions. I looked at Carly’s face, and saw what I needed. Her stiff upper lip, blank eyes and wide smile. The angles of her face. The sweetness, the barely concealed fatigue and frustration. Every look said: “You owe me, asshole.”

Compared to her, he was all softness. Quavering uncertainty, his will always failed. He didn’t have that killer instinct that rich boys needed to earn their father’s love. He was a second son, a disappointment, and he always would be.

I went to him and made a show of apologizing to Tom profusely. I made it abundantly clear how terrible I felt, and how I respected his bravery for enforcing COVID policies. I threw myself at his feet. I begged him to come for dinner with my wife and me. And to bring Carly, of course.

My wife, Francesca, is a tremendous cook. We bought several bottles of good red wine, and had steak, char-grilled to perfection. When they arrived, Tom and Carly were reticent to drop their masks at first, but they wanted to mirror our unmasked approving faces. The masks were pocketed quickly.

Tom relaxed in our company, bragging, laughing loudly, while Carly and Francesca chatted. We were all good friends now; any unpleasantness was in the past. Before long, Tom drank glass after glass of red wine and was heavily slurring his speech. After dinner we were in the living room talking. Francesca and I switched, so now I sat with Carly, and she sat with Tom. I could hear his voice dropping lower in register; I knew the wine was getting to him, and we refilled his glass whenever we could.

Carly found everything that I was saying hilarious. She could not stop laughing at my impressions of celebrities and the people from work. Finally, I started in on Tom. I imitated his germophobia, making him out to be Howard Hughes, with tissue boxes on his feet and jars of urine. Carly howled with laughter. When she leaned forward, I could through her decolletage almost to her navel. I put my hand on her shoulder and left it there.

Tom slowly turned his head. “Heyyyy…” he said, but he was too far gone to do anything. He slumped back into the couch, eyes wide, unmoving. He’d be a mute witness of the proceedings for long enough. Francesca rose from his side and came to me, kissing me tenderly on the mouth, absently stroking Carly’s throat and neck.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she whispered to me as she withdrew from me. She quietly left the room, with me and Carly close to one another. She would go to the computer room to start the living room cameras working to record all the events for posterity.

“I should probably call a taxi. It looks like Tom’s pretty drunk.”

“Just hold on a moment,” I said, and I drew her face to mine, inhaling her scent deeply. Her eyes were wide, frightened. She glanced over to Tom, still watching, not moving. I gently bit her upper lip and sucked on it. She shivered, and goosepimples appeared on her exposed chest. We kissed, and her sweet, sharp little tongue darted in and out of my mouth. She cradled my head with her hands, holding it for several moments.

She sighed and drew her head back, looking over at Tom. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I’ve only been married a year. My whole family was there. Everyone spent so much money. I can’t just go and fuck someone in front of my drunk husband.”

I took her hand and looked into her eyes. They were sparkling, crystal blue, intelligent and eager. Any fright they’d shown a few minutes ago had passed. Slowly, I drew her hand down to my erect cock. I let go and she didn’t move it. She licked her lips.

I pulled her close to me and we kissed. My hands were on her bare shoulders, unzipping her dress. She had a tight grip on my cock, working it up and down as she humped my leg. I unsnapped her bra and felt her warm, full tits in my hands, their nipples strongly erect.

She undid my slacks and released my cock, grasping it and looking into my eyes. I leaned toward her and whispered in her ear: “You see this cock? You are going to make it come harder and stronger than it ever has before.”

She started by kissing it on the side, running her mouth back-and-forth on it. Glancing from time to time at Tom, I murmured to her, “you have the most incredible smile, baby. I love the way you smile. Open up your mouth as wide as you can. Come on, wider. Let me see.” She complied; I put my hand on her chin.

“OK, I’m going to stick my fingers in your mouth so you start getting used to what it feels like. Yeah, OK, you see how when I push down, you drool a lot? That’s the kind of pressure you need to be putting on my cock.” She took the coaching well, bringing more and more of my girth into her small mouth. “That’s right, all the way in, slow and easy. Push me back with your mouth. Work your cheeks. I know you have more space in your throat. You can do a lot better than that. Push!”

Carly was now taking my cock like a pro, starting to bob up and down on it as she found her rhythm. I rolled my hips toward her while she gripped my ass tightly. My whole body shuddered; there’s nothing sweeter than a stolen blowjob.  

“Don’t forget my balls, babe. Feel them with your hand, kiss and rub them on your cheek. Take the skin and just hold it between your teeth, just a little bit. Nice.” It was incredible to watch her, so gorgeous with her face shining with spit and pre-come and her broken husband in the background. I ran my hands down her heaving chest. “Let all that drool just wash over you, Carly. It’s not gross, it’s not disgusting, it’s what I want. Yeah, get it all over your face, all over your tits.” She complied and laughed, rubbing the fluid all into her skin. I hoped the camera was getting all this.

I needed to slow down before I came. I grabbed her by the throat and her eyes went wide, instinctively giving my cock the most delicious pressure. “Stand up,” I commanded, pulling her head off my cock. “Get naked.” She complied, discarding her sleeveless dress and bra while I kicked off my shoes and shucked off my pants. I stood and walked to her, unbuttoning and dropping my shirt on the couch.

She was trembling in an adorable pair of pink panties. I embraced as her and gripped her ass tightly as she relaxed into me. “Pink is my favorite color,” I breathed into her ear while she clung to me. I looked over at Tom, mouth open, erection tenting his slacks. “Someone’s having a good time,” I chuckled, drawing Carly’s attention to his cock. She giggled. “Get those fucking panties off.”

Carly slid her wet tits down my chest as she brought her panties down her thighs, past her knees and down her calves. She stepped out of them, giving my jutting cock a quick kiss as she stood up. I was ready to devour her. I wrapped her in my strong arms and lifted her, rubbing her wet quim on my cock. Carly humped me furiously and it slowly entered her. She kissed me, sucking my tongue with hungry intensity.

I countered her weight, thrusting into her. As I tired, I slowly sank to one knee. I gripped her hips and coordinated our move to the carpeted floor. Now she sat across my lap, driving and twisting her cunt against my rock-hard cock. Carly moaned and panted. I grinned and slid my hands across her sweat and spit-slick tits. She worked herself into a frenzy, squeezing my biceps and shoulders so hard I had to tap her forearms to ease up. I’d have bruises tomorrow.

Her panting and her pussy’s squeezing increased their tempo; she came with a loud, jubilant “yes!” I kept fucking her as she crumpled to my chest and hugged me. I kissed her softly; tears were rolling down her face.

“Stay with me, Carly, you’re doing great.” I stroked her back and sat up, gently bringing her to her feet. I led her over to Tom’s crumpled form and turned her to face him. I entered her from behind and guided her hand onto his shoulders. We regained our rhythm, and she humped back on me as I fucked her, faster and faster.

Tom’s eyelids were heavy but aware. “Tom!” I grunted. “Make yourself useful! Lick your wife’s clit while I’m fucking her, will you?” I patted him on the cheek, then gave him a light slap. Tom lazily stuck his tongue out, and I pushed Carly’s ass towards him. She moved her mons towards his mouth, and soon the three of us were in synch. “With gusto, Tom, gusto!” He needed a lot of encouragement.

My orgasm came, fierce and strong. I clung to Carly’s tits as I spurted, leaning into her and pushing her further into her husband. She moaned; I idly wondered if she was on birth control. I felt I had another jism still in me, so I pulled out and shot all over her back and Tom’s face. My resentment and anger faded as my heartrate slowed. I sank to the couch next to Tom, cuddling Carly’s nude form on my lap. She stroked my hair and rested on me.

After a few minutes, Francesca appeared in the doorway. She was in her bathrobe and had a satisfied smile. She walked over to us and handed me my folded pajamas. “I called a taxi for Carly and Tom,” she said. I nodded.

Francesca picked up Carly’s clothes, then patted the drowsy young wife on the shoulder. Carly compliantly followed her to the bathroom to wash up.  

I rubbed my eyes and squeezed Tom’s thigh. “Buddy, it’s over, taxi’s coming. You need to be going.”

Tom blinked his eyes and felt the come on his face. I dressed; the smell of his wife’s pussy hung heavily in the room. He stood, unsteadily, and looked around. Carly had reappeared, dressed, with her coat on, holding Tom’s. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Herman, man, I’m so sorry I was rude to you, man. I feel terrible.” He was still slurring, but seemed genuinely repentant.

“Listen, rich boy. You may be able to buy anything, but you can’t buy fucking backbone. Don’t fuck with me, all right?” I brushed some of my come off his cheek and wiped it on his shirtsleeve. “Now get the fuck out.” He turned, joined Carly at the door, donned his coat, and shambled to the waiting taxi.

Chapter 2: https://hermanshermitage.com/2021/01/05/a-dish-best-served-cold-chapter-2/

A Dish Served Cold

It was a stupid disagreement. I was eating breakfast and drinking coffee during morning lecture. Tom was a notorious germophobe, and COVID was his personal apocalypse. He came up to me after lecture and confronted me, in front of everyone: “Herman, you had your mask off during lecture. You got to keep it on. You’re not even supposed to be eating in here.”

I lashed out; I should’ve held my tongue. But lots of people were eating, and he wasn’t even chief. He had no authority over me. “Tom, have you guys decided that there’s a no food policy in the lecture hall? No? Then don’t put your shit on me.”

He turned around and walked back to his seat. I was all fired up, threw my coat on, and walked out of there. I drove home in a fire of furious rage. What the fuck? I couldn’t take an insult like that lying down.

Other people from my group called me to invite me back to lecture and tell me they liked me. I guess I appreciated that, but it was hard to just brush past all of that. Spoiled little rich boy, never been in a fight. I’d never speak to him again.

Days went by, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally, I was left with the only solution: I had to get his wife to suck my dick and film it. Fuck her in the ass, if I could.

I know, it’s not the simplest way to quit being angry at someone for acting like a prick, but I didn’t choose to be like this, I just … am like this.

I’m old fashioned; I’m not bisexual. I still like to fuck women exclusively. Otherwise I’d figure out a way to sodomize him. It’d be more direct, but I’d have to settle for his wife.

I went online, studied their wedding pictures. You can read everything in a person’s facial expressions. I looked at Carly’s face, and saw everything I needed. Her stiff upper lip. Her blank eyes and wide smile. The angles of her face. The sweetness, the barely concealed fatigue and frustration. Every look said: “You owe me, asshole.”

Compared to her, he was all softness. Quavering uncertainty. Will that failed. He didn’t have that killer instinct that rich boys needed to earn their father’s love. He was a second son, a disappointment, and he always would be.

I made a show of apologizing to him profusely. I made it abundantly clear to Tom how terrible I felt, and how I respected his bravery for enforcing COVID policies. I threw myself at his feet. I begged him to come for dinner with my wife and me. And to bring Carly, of course.

My wife, Francesca, is a tremendous cook. We bought several bottles of good red wine, and had steak, char-grilled to perfection. Tom and Carly were reticent to drop their masks at first, but they wanted to mirror our unmasked approving faces. The masks were pocketed quickly.

Tom relaxed in our company, bragging, laughing loudly, while Carly and Francesca chatted. We were all good friends now; any unpleasantness was in the past.

Tom drank glass after glass of red wine and was slurring his speech prominently by the time I dropped the roofie in his drink. After dinner we were in the living room talking. Francesca and I switched, so now I sat with Carly, and she sat with Tom. I could hear his voice drop lower in register; I knew the drug was working.

Carly found everything that I was saying hilarious. She could not stop laughing at my impressions of celebrities and the people from work. Finally, I started in on Tom. I imitated his germophobia, making him out to be Howard Hughes, with tissue boxes on his feet and jars of urine. Carly howled with laughter. When she leaned forward, I could through her decolletage almost to her navel. I put my hand on her shoulder and left it there.

Tom slowly turned his head. “Heyyyy…” he said, but he was too far gone to do anything. He’d be a silent witness of the proceedings from now on. Francesca rose from his side and came to me, kissing me tenderly on the mouth, absently stroking Carly’s throat and neck.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she whispered to me as she withdrew from me. She quietly left the room, with me and Carly close to one another. She would go to the computer room to start the living room cameras working. That way, all the events could be recorded.

“I should probably call a taxi. Tom’s pretty drunk, it looks like.”

“Just hold on a moment,” I said, and I drew her face to mine, inhaling her scent deeply. Her eyes were wide, frightened. She glanced over to Tom, still watching, not moving. I gently bit her upper lip and sucked on it. She shivered, and goosepimples appeared on her exposed chest. We kissed, and her sweet, sharp little tongue darted in and out of my mouth. She cradled my head with her hands, holding it for several moments.

She sighed and drew her head back, looking over at Tom. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I’ve only been married a year. My whole family was there. Everyone spent so much money. I can’t just go and fuck someone in front of my drunk husband.”

I took her hand and looked into her eyes. They were sparkling, crystal blue, intelligent and eager. The fright they’d shown a few minutes ago had passed. Slowly, I drew her hand down to my erect cock. I let go and she didn’t release my cock. She licked her lips.

I pulled her close to me and we kissed. My hands were on her bare shoulders, unzipping her dress. She had a tight grip on my cock, and was steadily humping my leg and she worked it up and down. I unsnapped her bra and felt her warm, full tits in my hands, their nipples strongly erect.

To be continued …

To The Death

Throttle, crush, smash, just
Nonstop devastation and
Cruelty abound.

I will make you so
Sorry that you ever crossed
Me. Choke you to death.

Rip your snide little
Grin right off your fucking face.
Struggle and suffer.

Burn in agony.
I hope you die blue in the
Face, gasping for breath.

I am pitiless.
They have pitted us against
Each other. Only

One can arise from
This pit, and it’s going to
Be me. No mercy.

Angel in Chains

You enticed me here

With promises of talent

Fulfilled, potential


Realized. Service and

A community of like

Minds. Then you locked me


In a sewer, to

Twist and writhe as you giggle

At my agony.


I can’t free myself.

No rescuer waits in the

Wings. If I want a

Miracle, Deus

Ex Machina, it will have

To come from my heart.

Double Bind

It isn’t what it

Is, and it’s not what it is

Not. Nothing and all.

If you want it, it’s

Wrong. If you avoid it, it

Finds you anyway.

There is a perfect

Circle, and you are a point

On a distant plane.

When you’re right, you’re wrong.

When you’re wrong, you’re dead wrong. But

Keep on trying, friend.

June’s New Sex Kitten, Leyla, Ch. 4

The moment that Leyla heard the trigger phrase, I could see a change come over her. Her trembling stopped. It was replaced with a slow, undulating wave rippling from her back to her hips, her buttocks and thighs.

“You bitch, are you going to stick it in or are you going to make me beg for it?” Leyla sneered.

Hilda, ever the seasoned pro, seemed caught off guard by the change. “Uhhh, I am just searching your head now, ma’am.”

“Well, go nuts, hot shot. Listen, you never told me your name. If we’re going to be intimate like this, I should at least know your name.”

“It’s Hilda, ma’am.”

“Call me Leyla from now on, all right?” She slowly put one knee up on the table, and then the other, folded her hands under her head, flexed her hips, and thrust her ass up in the air. 

“Could you sit up for me?”

“You do a lot of strip searches with body cavity inspections as a security guard for a cosmetics firm?” Leyla smirked as she pushed herself up and arranged herself cross legged on the table, facing Hilda, looking in her right in the eyes, her pussy spreading. 

“I do enough. I’m going to inspect your scalp now.” Leyla leaned her head forward, and Hilda ran her gloved fingers through Leyla’s long dark hair. She moved her neck and shoulders sensually, biting her lip and closing her eyes. The skin on her chest reddened, and I could see her nipples harden. My god, she was a virtuoso.

Hilda leaned closer to her, and Leyla breathed, in a throaty stage whisper, “you look really tough, but I bet you’re a great kisser.” Hilda jumped back.

“What… What makes you say that?” Hilda‘s hands were out to the side, as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“I see the way your lips move when you’re happy or angry or sad. You’re sensual and emotional, and you think you hide it from the world because you don’t move your eyebrows or your eyes. But I see it.”

“Have we met before?”

“Just because we haven’t talked doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you. I’ve worked here for almost a month now. I see you every day at the front desk, and I see you when you check the offices at the end of the day. I’ve seen you interact with the delivery people and I watched when you dealt with those drunk guys at that banquet last week. You’re very confident and self-assured. But you don’t want anyone to know how much you feel and how much you want to be seen. We’re alike in that way.” 

Hilda’s voice broke with emotion. “Thank you. I just, I just…” She caught her breath. “I feel invisible a lot of the time. You’re just so gorgeous and you have everything, and I didn’t think you knew who I was.” Her eyes became even bluer as they filled with tears. 

Leyla sat up and crossed her legs on the table. She seemed unconscious of her nudity. She raised her hands and gently stroked Hilda’s face on both sides. She drew her face close, and they exchanged the gentlest first kiss that I’ve ever seen.

In my secret cubicle, I was torn. I have my legs spread, two fingers deep inside myself, and my shirt open, cupping and squeezing my tit for all it was worth. But I felt like my heart was growing, and I had all these feelings for both. Was I crying? Fuck.

I watched the sweetness and warmth of the kisses, gradually slid my fingers out of my pussy, and sat up at the desk. I had to end it. We were conditioning Leyla for our own purposes, and this was not the plan.

I used the microphone to call into Hilda’s earpiece. “OK, tell her ‘Ruby.’ You have to shock her and make her scared, so she’s turned on but doesn’t understand why.”

Hilda didn’t respond. She embraced the shorter woman with her massive arms and pulled her in tight. I repeated my command; Hilda didn’t budge.

Time for the big guns. I got the microphone from under the desk and turned on the room’s loudspeaker. “Ruby.” The word echoed. There’s no way anyone in the security office missed it.

I watched Leyla and waited for the change. I knew she had heard the word, because I saw her jump slightly when she heard the noise. But now she was unbuttoning Hilda’s shirt and kissing her all over her neck and chest. Fuck!

 

I straightened up my hair and fixed my blouse and skirt. When I opened the door, Hilda had Leyla on the table, fingering her pussy and sucking on her breast. Leyla’s face was a portrait of celestial peace and joy. I admit, I was jealous.

“Shut it down, shut it down, that’s enough. Hilda, take the rest the day off, Leyla, I think you should explain yourself.”

Hilda jumped up and bowed her massive head. She buttoned her shirt closed, then reached back and fixed her braid. She folded her hands solemnly.

Leyla propped herself up on her elbows, looking me right in the eye. “Well, well, well. The empress has no clothes. Thanks for joining us, June, you ready to party?” She arched an eyebrow lasciviously.

My mouth was watering. I really, really wanted to say yes. “I have to say I’m disappointed, Leyla. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but stripping in a business meeting and then fucking my security detail breaks so many of our company policies that I don’t even think I could keep you if I wanted to. So, what’s the deal here?”

Hilda shuffled to the door when Leyla commanded her: “Don’t you dare open that fucking door! Sit your ass down and wait till I tell you what to do.” Hilda’s eyes went wide. She looked at me for a long moment and then at Leyla. She then went back to the table and sat down on one of the chairs.

I shook my head. “Goddamnit. Fine, Hilda, I’ll deal with you later. Start a multi-million-dollar global company, hire the best people, take care of them, and this is the thanks I get.”

Leyla sat up from the table and stood, her shoulders square, her hair down and flared around her head, like the halo of an avenging angel. God, her tits looked amazing. I tried to focus. I stared her right back in her eyes.

She walked towards me slowly. I pronounced the release phrase again and again, but she wasn’t stopping. “Ruby, Ruby, come on, Ruby.”

Leyla laughed. “Are you looking for your ruby slippers, so you can say ‘no place like home?’ Nice try.”

I shook my head. “Are you immune to hypnosis?”

“I guess I’m just less susceptible. It’s kind of like being drunk. You can’t make yourself less drunk, but you can sober up if you really need to.”

“Well, whatever. You’re still fired.”

“Do I smell pussy on you, June? I think I do. I was in a sorority in college. Is that what you do? Sit in the back room with a bunch of cameras and watch everyone fuck each other in the stairwells? Watch me get myself off in the locker room? Kind of pathetic. Illegal, too.”

Now it was my turn to blush. I backed up. “You can’t prove anything.”

Leyla put her hands on her hips like she was Wonder Woman. I swear, you would’ve thought I was the one who was naked. “No? You might not know this, but my fiancé works for the FBI. He had his lab analyze your handkerchief when I came home slurring my speech. He said it’s doped with a powerful sedative hypnotic that’s designed to be deployed intranasally. He said it’s considered a controlled substance, and possession of even five milliliters constitutes a felony. Now, if he raided this place, do you think that he’d find any of it? And if he had a search warrant to go through your building, do you think he’d find mirrors, hidden cameras, microphones, thousands an hour of hours of surveillance footage? I bet you even have a filing cabinet with a bunch of souvenirs and evidence of all the times you’ve done this before.”

Hilda’s mouth was open so wide a fly should’ve landed on it. I was so fucked. I got played by a twenty-two-year-old sorority girl. “Fine, you win.” I shook my head. “What do you want?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Partnership, lifetime employment, pay back my student loans, corner office.” Her smile was so bright I wanted to put sunglasses on.

“Done. I’ll have my legal people get the paperwork together, you give me back that handkerchief, and we sign a nondisclosure agreement.” 

“June, if we’re going to be in business together, I think we need to have mutual trust. Now you have all kinds of footage now with me in various compromising positions. I have no intention of breaking up with my fiancé.” With that, she dipped to the floor and picked up her engagement ring, setting it neatly on her ring finger.

“You can have all the masters of the footage I recorded. You can have the files. I’ll dismantle the surveillance.” 

“That’s just not good enough, come on, June. There is no way that I can be sure that you don’t have a copy somewhere. No, I think we should just depend on the fact that you have this blackmail on me.”

“What do we do then?”

“I have to fight fire with fire. I think the only thing that we can do is shoot porn with the three of us here, and Hilda and I get to keep that in a safe deposit box as insurance against retaliation.” It was like all the air got sucked out of my lungs. Who did she think she was? She motioned to the floor. “Get on your knees and crawl to me, you fucking bitch.”

Hilda had already gone back to my cubicle to make sure that the recording was on. I stepped out of my shoes, kneeled, and started crawling on my hands and knees over to Leyla. She cupped my chin triumphantly as she planted a foot on the chair, spreading her pussy in front of me.  “All you executives are just talk. When you have a naked woman with her pussy in your face, you’re just as scared as anybody.”

She shoved my head roughly into her bush. I inhaled the musk and started laughing.

Hilda was behind me, pulling up my skirt and yanking my panties down my ass. “What’s so funny?”

I sat on my heels for a minute as Leyla stared down at me impatiently.

“I’m just really proud of you. I’ve been playing this game for so long I didn’t even know what it meant if someone else won. I guess this is what that means.”

Leyla chuckled and pushed my head back into her crotch.

Chapter 5: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/12/06/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-5/

Series to date:

Chapter 1: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/20/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-1/

Chapter 2: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/23/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-2/

Chapter 3: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/24/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-3/

June’s New Sex Kitten, Leyla, Ch. 3

Leyla stood and frantically tugged at the hem of her skirt. All heads in the room turned toward the door as the security guard entered the room.  Hilda’s stern profile quieted the titter immediately. Leyla covered her chest with her arms as Hilda overshadowed her.

Hilda was my favorite member of the security detail; she was point guard for her NCAA college basketball team, and I’d recruited her personally. More than six feet tall, she kept her long blonde hair coiled in a tight braid atop her skull. She was every inch the Valkyrie her name suggested, with ice blue eyes and fair complexion contrasted by her black pantsuit. She covered Leyla’s shoulder with one huge palm and escorted her from the room.

I slipped on an ear pod to kept tabs on their conversation while they walked, patched through to the microphone in Hilda’s lapel. While they took the elevator to ground floor security, I took the stairs to my private monitoring station in a shaded, enclosed cubicle just a few feet from where Leyla would be debriefed.

I listened to Leyla ramble: “Oh my god, I can’t believe that happened. That’s never happened before. You have to believe me. This job means everything to me. I admire everyone that works here so much, especially June, she’s been my hero for years, even since high school. I can’t lose this job, please, can I just call June and apologize right now? I don’t have my phone. Where’s my phone?”

My cubicle afforded me multiple angles to watch their approach to the enclosed security office. Hilda maintained a firm grip on Leyla’s tricep. Leyla had fixed her skirt, but her blouse remained untucked, held in front by a few haphazard buttons she’d managed to secure. She hadn’t retrieved her blazer.

Hilda kept her silence as they entered the empty security office; she shut and locked the door behind her. Leyla was led to a dark corner of the office. Hilda pointed at a low table. “You are to remove every article of clothing and place them in a pile on the table. I will watch you closely, and then I will examine your person. If you are carrying any illegal material, such as drugs, and you attempt to hide or destroy them, you will be terminated and remanded to police custody.”

Leyla’s mouth hung open. She put her hand on the table, as if to keep from toppling over. “You mean I’m not fired now?”

“I cannot speak regarding the HR process for this incident and any future decisions about your status with June Loos Cosmetics. I can only advise regarding my role as security specialist and our security policy as it applies to erratic behavior which is suggestive of drug and/or alcohol intoxication. Rest assured that this will be a professional search. If you would like to surrender your drugs to me now, I can take them from you, but I will still need to examine you.” Hilda removed a pair of extra-large latex gloves from her jacket pocket, shook them out, and began stretching them on.

Leyla shook her head. “I have no drugs on me. I’m certain. Not in my pockets, not in my underwear, not in my pussy and not in my asshole.” I grinned to hear these vulgarities escape her prim mouth. I slipped my hand into my blouse to tease my nipple as I watched. I should have brought popcorn.

“Ma’am, I’ll restate my instructions one more time if you haven’t understood them.” Hilda’s firm mouth didn’t waver by a millimeter; she was truly unflappable. I reminded myself to give her a raise.

Leyla stepped out of her tall high heels and placed them on the table. Without them, she was several inches shorter than Hilda, exacerbating their difference in power. “Do you have a right to do this search, legally?”

Hilda fingered each pump roughly, tapping on the insoles and knocking the toes together to listen for a hidden compartment. “Ma’am, you may review the forms you signed when you accepted the offer of employment at this company if you’d prefer, but I want to get on with this.”

Her blouse was quickly opened and draped across the table. Leyla hesitated, as if deciding whether losing her skirt or her bra would be more humiliating. She chose her bra, and her breasts defied gravity as she surrendered it. Breasts are incredible; even though I see them every day, they’re new each time.

Hilda’s stoic face betrayed a coy grin as she turned the blouse inside out and shook it. “Your husband’s a lucky man.”

“We’re not married yet,” she sighed, taking off her engagement ring and putting it on the table. She unclasped her skirt at the side, releasing a lovely heart shaped ass. I had my skirt hiked to the waist now, running my fingers along my inner thigh. She sat down on a nearby chair to take off her sheer stockings.

“Can I ask you a question, ma’am? Are you pretty good at sucking dick?” Leyla’s eyes widened in shock as she stood, clad only in sensible white panties.

“What was that?”

Hilda stretched the stockings in her powerful hands. “I’ve never done it, myself. I just wonder. You’ve got pretty full lips, but you’re so tiny. I just wonder what kind of guy you could even deep throat. Come on now, get your panties off. I have to search your person now.”

Leyla’s whole body was shivering now as she inched the panties down, revealing a full, dark bush, sculpted. I rubbed my clit through my panties and wondered if she was Italian. She mumbled, “I guess I’m OK at it.” She handed Hilda her panties. Hilda brought them to her nose and sniffed deeply.

“I don’t believe you. Bend your ass over the table and let me check you.” Leyla didn’t move, petrified by Hilda’s lecherous turn.

“Let’s go!” Hilda shouted, slapping a hand on the metal table. Leyla jumped, and flung herself across the table, knocking her clothes and ring to the floor. I switched to the overhead camera to look at her welldefined shoulder muscles and the curve of her neck. And her ass, of course.

Hilda ran one gloved hand down the line of Leyla’s spine, and bent over her. She whispered into Leyla’s trembling ear: “Rascal.”

Read the next chapter, Chapter 4: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/25/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-4/

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/20/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-1/

Chapter 2: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/23/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-2/

June’s New Sex Kitten, Leyla, Ch. 2

Leyla had been with us for a few weeks, and I was pleased to watch her progress. She had integrated well into the team, was exceedingly sharp in her assessments, and gave excellent presentations. Every instance of her radiance and excellence increased my desire to break her, to see her on her knees before me.

On this particular afternoon, she was in my office for a small meeting regarding new markets and expansions. She was explaining to the group that my company must tread lightly when entering a new market which was controlled by our competitors: “I think it’s important to be strategic and deferential to the market. We don’t want to get into a trade war.”

I leaned in, smirked, and offered, “when I see a rose ripe for the plucking, I don’t restrain my hand, Leyla.”

She blushed, and stammered, “you’re right, June, there is an opportunity here. But if we’re seen as predatory, they’ll fight us.”

“I like a fight. I win. It’s my nature. I don’t want peace. I don’t want a settled customer base. I want to conquer and rule an empire. Surely you’re beginning to see my trend, dear?” I arched my eyebrow, and every woman in the room held her breath.

Leyla looked down at her hands, and whispered, “I see, June. Of course.”

I chuckled and dismissed the meeting. The attendees looked at Leyla, who hadn’t lifted her eyes. They slowly withdrew from the room; Leyla remained, frozen, trembling. I walked over to where she was sitting in my now empty office and took the chair next to her. She kept her gaze from me. I took her chin in my hand and raised her eyes to me. “Don’t be frightened, girl, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

She tilted her head to the side and fluttered her eyelashes; I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers. I could have her now, probably. But I wanted to see her crawl, not take her to dinner.

She was nearly cooing at my ministrations, and I dropped my hand to her knee and gave it a hard squeeze that brought her to attention. “Speak, Leyla, what can I do for you?”

“I’m just so happy you’re not angry with me, June. I can’t bear the idea of disappointing you.” Her open mouth curled into a hopeful smile.

I released her thigh and stood. “We must be bold, and we must not waver in our work. Our products are supreme, and we will take all the customers in the end. It mirrors my beliefs about sex: why fuck one for life when you can fuck them all?”

The tiniest whimper escaped her lips as I strode over to my desk. I poured myself a snifter of whiskey from the decanter. I touched it to my lips, inhaling and allowing the aroma to bathe my mouth and nose. “Would you like one, Leyla?”

She stood and clasped her hands in front of her heaving chest. “I should really get home. My fiancée is cooking dinner tonight, and he says he’s making something special. Last time he did this, I had to cook everything because he got confused in the kitchen. I don’t want to leave him alone in there.”
“Very well, Leyla. You’ll have time for a workout, I hope?” I gave her my most knowing smile, and her alabaster skin flushed a deeper red than I’d seen before.

Her voice squeaked, thrilled and confused. “Maybe!” She gave me a long glance and skittered from the room. I’d have to check the monitors in a few minutes and see if she’d repeat her self-love routine of her first day.

A few weeks later, Leyla was making a presentation to management, a well-crafted slideshow I knew she’d spent several hours on. She was dressed as I liked her: a fashionable, form fitting charcoal blazer over a crisp ivory blouse, open at the neck to hint at her ample cleavage. Her tight skirt hugged the curves of her ass, and her long legs were sheathed by black stockings. She stood on tall black high heels. I watched her strut back and forth as she laid out her points. She concluded and took questions from management.

Marcella, a no-nonsense Hispanic manager, was critical. “Leyla, I know you’re new here, but I’m concerned with how aggressive this approach is. If we run afoul of the regulators, we earn ourselves a heap of trouble.”

Leyla nodded, folding her hands solemnly and knitting her brow. “We’ve been in direct consultation with legal, who has been advising closely to make sure we’re within boundaries. I think …”

Marcella interrupted her. “You think? Listen, our reputation as a responsible company is crucial for our overall sustainability. If we act like a bunch of rascals, we could get shut out of the market.”

Leyla’s eyes went wide. She giggled and rolled her eyes up and down. “Marcella, I didn’t catch the last part of what you said. Could you say that one more time?” She crossed her arms in front of her and felt the sleeves of her jacket.

“Well, I said that the regulators would think we were a bunch of rascals!” Marcella gave her a very concerned look.

“That’s what I thought you said.” She giggled, a high, nasal sound. “I’m just feeling so hot. Is anyone else hot?”

The managers shook their heads. Leyla let her long dark hair down in back of her, and it shimmered as it fell along her neck and shoulders. “I think I hear music. Is that Ginuwine?”

Marcella leaned forward. “Leyla, I think it’s time for you to sit down.”

Leyla slowly shrugged the jacket off her arms, dropping it to the floor. “I don’t want to sit down, Marcella. I want to dance.”

To me, she had never looked more gorgeous than this moment, when she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt, giving the women a fuller glimpse of her ample chest and the modest lace bra beneath. With each flick of her wrist, she’d pause to watch them sigh. She twirled, tousling her hair like a goddess’s headdress. She dipped, alternating knees, opening a button to each beat of the music in her head. The crowd was on the edge of their seats.

After the last button, she thrust her arms back, gaping her ivory blouse and jutting her breasts proudly beneath her brassiere. She rocked her hips back and forth, forcing her tight skirt further and further up her hips.

While I wanted nothing more than to see her bared before me and my company, I wasn’t in the habit of eating my cake before my dinner.

From the head of the table, I quietly intoned “Ruby.” With that, the spell was broken. Leyla froze in place, looking down at her open dress shirt, hiked up skirt, and white panties above her stockings. She jerked to her feet, covered her chest with her arms, and screamed.

Read prior chapter:

Chapter 1: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/20/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-1/

Read next chapter:

Chapter 3: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/24/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-3/