Named and Shamed

NAMED AND SHAMED

by

C. P. MANDARA

steamestuff.com

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Named and Shamed published in 2014 by Steam eStuff.

This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright C. P. Mandara. The right of C. P. Mandara to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

Good Evening

The Mercedes coupé slunk silently through the evening traffic, sneaking in and out of lanes with stealth and speed. Like a bullet made of liquid silver, the six litre engine had eaten up several hundred miles of motorway with sublime ease and was now purring happily in the smog-filled heart of London. Comfortably stretched out in one of its grey Nappa leather seats, the driver was in a world of his own. His knuckles were tightly clamped around the steering wheel and it was evident that the events of his day had been stressful. The bittersweet strains of Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata
could be heard throughout the vehicle, but the dulcet tones did not manage to soothe its occupant.

After forty minutes of queuing the driver finally reached his destination, exited swiftly and tossed his keys to a waiting valet. In the heart of London, the city played its usual vibrant tune and the sounds of honking horns, noisy car stereos and cursing motorists could be heard. Usually he barely even noticed them, but this evening they appeared to be amplified to unbearable proportions. His usual smile was absent and the state of agitation he found himself in grew with each passing second. Walking purposefully towards the revolving doors of the sheet glass skyscraper that towered in front of him, the only sound that could be heard was the receptionist as she scraped back her chair and rose to greet him.

'Good evening, Sir. I hope you had...'

'Thank you, Lucinda.' He shut the blonde down with those three clipped words and continued walking. Initially her eyes flared with shock, but recovering quickly she looked carefully at the floor before reseating herself. She didn't quite manage to hide her disappointed expression. Although they had been intimate on several occasions, the blonde was not what he needed today. He required a brunette, and not just any brunette. He wanted a trained accomplice for the deeds he had in mind. He would find one of those several metres up in the air.

Pressing the button for the elevator he waited until a melodic ping announced its arrival. Immediately stepping inside, the doors closed swiftly behind him and he rode in contemplative silence until they opened their jaws on the twenty-first and uppermost floor.

'Good evening, Mr...'

Another chair moved and another blonde shot up to try and greet him. 'I want Marianna in my office, now,' he barked.

Unlike the female downstairs, Kerry had the benefit of at least three years of submissive training. His surly demeanour and sharp commands immediately primed her for action.

'And tell her to bring me a cup of coffee and an aspirin.'

He strode purposefully to a dark-panelled door on his left, which bore his nameplate in scripted gold lettering, and pulled it open wide. He rifled through the papers on his desk and checked his messages. There was nothing that wouldn't wait until tomorrow, which was good. This evening he had plans - and lots of them.

No sooner had he sat himself down, than Marianna's high heels could be heard marching efficiently down the corridor. Kerry had obviously relayed the news of his good humour. He almost smiled.

The long-haired brunette entered gracefully, bearing a silver salver with a cup of black coffee, a tall glass of water and a blister pack of tablets. She laid it to rest on his giant, solid mahogany desk and gracefully fell to the floor beside it. On her knees she kept her eyes downcast and tilted her head forward. Her arms were then neatly folded behind her back.

So, this was the lovely Marianna. He vaguely remembered employing her. Unlike most of the girls in his office, she had been hired chiefly for her computer skills rather than any other purpose. Of course, the girl was a beauty, but then... they all were. Her long chestnut hair framed her face in delicate waves, she had a pair of sparkling green emerald eyes which could dazzle a lesser man and her lips were full and ripe for the taking, dressed only in a thin coat of clear gloss. They were currently posed in the most deliciously sensuous pout.

For a couple of quiet minutes he allowed himself the pleasure of admiring her tantalising form. The sheer white blouse she wore accentuated her full breasts and he could see wisps of white lace beneath it. The knee length black skirt did nothing to cool his ardour because he was already imagining what it might be concealing. Most of his submissives knew he preferred his women clean shaven and without the additional hindrance of underwear, but he would have to wait and see what delights this one would reveal. He suspected she'd toe the line. The penalties for misbehaviour in his office were often detrimental to the health of one's backside... amongst other things.

He had never used her. It was no secret that he had a preference for blondes and eighty percent of the women in his office conformed to this whim. The brunettes were there purely for decoration. They were often used by his colleagues or a visitor, but rarely, if ever, by him.

It was clear that she was nervous by the faint ripple of movement which flowed through her body, and so she should be. Women talked and the other ladies in his office had many tales to tell. Tonight, this beautiful creature was going to be used as he had used no one else in his office before. He punched two chalky white tablets from their plastic coating and let his fingers rest upon the highball glass. There was a slight wobble in his hand as he reached for the water, and it annoyed him. He needed to calm down and he needed release. One would probably follow the other, although the order might need to be reversed. Swallowing the tablets, he began to envision how his evening would unfold.

'Stand.' The command was soft, but there was no disguising the edge to his voice. She obeyed instantly. 'I want my coffee, Marianna.' His voice was a growl and his eyes appeared almost evil in their obvious carnal intent.

To her credit, Marianna didn't miss a beat. She took hold of the platinum-edged cup and proffered the beverage towards him.

Finally his mouth turned upwards at the corners. 'That is not how I want to drink my coffee.' The girl looked at him blankly and stood frozen in an obvious state of panic.

He took pity on her. 'Take a sip, but do not swallow. Remember those words. I'll be using some of them again later this evening.' The smile left the contours of his lips. He waited for her to obey.

Raising the cup she took a tiny sip of the scalding brew and waited. He let her wait. She could cool the damn stuff down, as the girls always made it too hot. He watched as she struggled for a moment with the heat. He could see the slight downturn of her eyelids and the pinched set to her face. The beautiful emerald eyes changed briefly from their transparent crystal sheen to cloudy pools of discomfiture. His need to devour her grew.

'Straddle me.' He swung his chair out from under the confines of his desk and allowed her legs to position themselves over his. Inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume, spicy and enticing, he allowed his hands to brush lightly over her hips. She shuddered in response. His hands circled her tiny waist and caressed the soft flesh of her stomach through the thin material of her blouse. He couldn't wait to unwrap every last morsel of satiny skin and have her laid bare before him, but there was no rush. He let his hands roam, stroking the soft orbs of her backside before running them down the fabric of her tailored skirt. When the material ended the smooth silkiness of her legs was a beautiful contrast. His hands began to roll her skirt upwards, inch by slow inch. His fingers walked a leisurely path up her naked inner thighs. Would she be wet? Did she want him? He would demand answers to both of his questions shortly.

'Kiss me.'

He watched as she bent down and angled her head. He waited. Plump, full lips pressed against his and he did little more than accept their gentle pressure. If she wanted to get rid of that coffee she'd need to convince him to open up. If you were asked to play with the boss, you needed to know how to tango. It didn't take her long to figure the game out. She tilted her head back, keeping the liquid safely inside her mouth and let her tongue trace a warm, wet path around his lips. She circled them from top to bottom with the softest of caresses. Oh, this one was good. Pulling her roughly onto his lap he sealed his lips over hers and drank from his vessel.

He took his time plundering her mouth. With slow swirls and long snakes of his tongue he revealed his intent and let the battle commence. Threading his fingers through her luxuriously thick curls he deepened the kiss, and his mouth sucked the air from her body. She tasted divine; mainly because she was drinking his coffee, but he could taste peppermint too, and the combination when added to her sweet saliva was intoxicating. Reluctantly, he released her lips.

'We're going to play a little game, you and I,' he murmured seductively. 'You're going to feed me every last drop of my coffee, using nothing more than these.' To reiterate his point he traced an outline of her damp lips with his index finger. Pausing for a second, deep in salacious thought, he took the opportunity to give her a dark look. 'If you manage to complete my task without spilling a drop from these luscious ruby-reds, I will allow you the choice of foregoing the punishment I have planned for you, which will be three lashes from my belt.' He watched how her eyelids fluttered downwards and knew she was studying the thick brown leather that encircled his waist. He knew what she was thinking. 'Yes, they will hurt.' The delightful shudder of her body caused his cock to pulse and twitch. 'Just remember that if you manage to accomplish your task you have the power to avoid them, but you should also know that if you fail the lashes will be doubled and you will beg for each and every one,' he paused again and bent down to whisper in her ear, 'and believe me when I tell you they will lacerate both body
and
mind.'

He tipped her chin back with his fingers to admire both the apprehension and lust reflected in her large, expressive eyes. She didn't appear unduly concerned. Ah, so she thought this game was going to be easy. Was this one going to make a grave error and underestimate his tactics? The sexual tension in the room rippled upon an invisible thread and he could smell her arousal, pouring off her body with a pleasant and yet powerful aroma. It suffused his office in a matter of seconds and was far more potent than any aphrodisiac he had ever tasted.

She took her time, giving her lips a sly lick as she was fully aware he had his eyes on them, but when she made to take the cup and saucer in her hand, he had the last laugh.

'I distinctly remember saying you will feed me using nothing more than your lips, my dear. I believe those are your hands, are they not?' The black look he gave her would have destroyed a lesser mortal.

When the mesmerising eyes connected with hers, Marianna found her breath was imprisoned in her throat, too scared to divulge its presence. The cup and saucer rattled dangerously in her hands, the coffee sloshed from side to side in the inadequate confines of its creamy-white porcelain container and her grip faltered. Spraying a moving arc of steaming brown liquid, the cup sailed through the air.

Sweet Dreams Are Not Made of These

Jenny was once again down on all fours, of her own free will for a change, and she was having a stand-off with a herd of pony girls who looked like sex-starved, rabid dogs. The odds were decidedly stacked against her. The creatures were practically dribbling with excitement.

There were several dilemmas to be considered, from her perspective. One, she would quite like to let them have their way with her and get a jolly good tonguing, because her body fairly thrummed with excitement. Two, she would be rescued tomorrow, so the stupid threats could probably be ignored. Three, trying to escape these beasts in pony hoof-boots was going to be nigh on impossible. The only trouble was viewpoint four. Number four was murmuring in her ear: but you don't do girls, do you? The thing was, unless she tried a girl, or perhaps several, how would she know if they were any good? They might be a damn site better than their gender opposites when push came to shove. It could prove to be interesting research. She needn't have wasted her grey matter, though, because in the end all her dilemmas mattered for naught.