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Message-ID: <43844asstr$1060693802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
MBOX-Line: From cyan@protgp.com  Mon Aug 11 07:20:56 2003
From: cyan@protgp.com
Subject: {ASSM} Real Wants
Date: Tue, 12 Aug 2003 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Hi all,

Here is another story of mine for your enjoyment.  My previously
posted stories can be found at:

http://groups.google.com/groups?q=author:cyan%40protgp.com

Enjoy!

-Cy
http://cyan.protgp.com/



Real Wants
by Cyan
Copyright 2003


"So," she said, "if I understand you correctly..."

She paused.  And stood.  Instinctively I stood as well and 
she came out in front of the desk.  My heart sank.  It 
seemed certain she was escorting me out.  "What you want 
is to do a case study--on us."

"Yes," I said, having backed away a bit to give her room.  
She leaned back on the front of her desk, and once again I 
couldn't help but be aware of the way she was dressed, the 
killer suit, as opposed to me, in my jeans and all.  I 
didn't have a suit like hers but I could have dressed up a 
bit.

"It seems our little company is of some fascination to 
you."

"It's a good example of..."  I didn't finish since I could 
see in her eyes that I'd be simply repeating myself.  Jane 
Stokes had such an intimidating way about her, even with 
her unbelievably young looks. I knew her company was ten 
years old, yet this woman could easily pass for her early 
twenties.  I stood there, helplessly mute.

"And while you don't *need* to use this company, you very 
much *want* our consent and cooperation to be your case 
study."

I tried to read her.  Moments before I'd been sure she was 
going to turn me down but now she was going over the whole 
thing so deliberately.  Did she enjoy drawing out a 
refusal?  I couldn't tell what she was up to.  "Yes," I 
said, immediately chagrinned that my word was little more 
than a mumble.

"You don't need us."  I stared.  I didn't understand why 
she repeated the point.  "But you very much want us."

I certainly did.  It was *perfect*, I just knew my advisor 
would approve and things would go smoothly.  She still 
said nothing.  "Yes," I said again.

Her gaze never left me, and I felt when I faltered at 
holding her eyes that I probably looked guilty about 
something.  It was so hard to look her in the eye.  She 
was so intense.

We stood there.  I was rooted to the spot.

"Undo your jeans and push them down."

I found myself staring.  She hadn't moved a muscle, still 
sat against the desk.  *Could she have said that?*  My 
heart was suddenly beating.  What was going on?  She 
simply sat there, watching me.  But I knew I hadn't heard 
wrong, that she'd said exactly the words I recalled.  I 
didn't know what to do.  I stood there.

Was this her little joke?  Her way of chasing me away?  
Her dare?  A test?  I needed to leave.  I hated to leave, 
as if she'd bested me with such an outrageous demand.  And 
I *really wanted* this case study.  I didn't know what to 
do and I hated myself for simply standing there as if I 
were paralyzed.

She made no move.  She simply watched me, still holding my 
eyes.

I undid my jeans.  *What am I doing!  This is crazy crazy 
crazy!*  Her eyes never left mine.  I pushed them down.  
"Underpants too," she said.

I felt a chill, as if I were about to shudder.  The jeans 
were around my thighs.  It was so surreal, this 
businesswoman simply staring at me, saying these things.  
I pushed my underpants down.  "Below your knees," she 
said.

As I bent down, I felt her eyes on me.  *How can I be 
doing this?  How can this be happening?*  I stood up 
again, feeling so naked, uncovered in such a way.  I never 
saw her eyes off my own.  I felt so vulnerable.  "Lift 
your top, above your breasts."

For a second, thoughts of what might be ahead filled me, 
but I pushed them aside.  I was too afraid to think like 
that.  It was much too late to do anything but continue 
this.  "Undo your bra and lift it off your breasts," she 
said when my top was up.  In seconds, I wore nothing 
between my breasts and my knees.  With this woman, this 
stylish, stunning woman watching me, making me do this.  
"Kara," she said.

I realized though she still held my eye that she'd pressed 
her intercom.  "Yes Ma'am?" came her receptionist's voice.

"Come in here," Jane said.

Panic grabbed me and I knew I needed to stop this, to get 
myself back together.  "Yes Ma'am," came Kara's voice.  I 
recalled Kara, no older than myself, the attitude I'd 
sensed in her about an MBA student coming in as I was.

"Kara," said Jane, "bring the handcuffs.  And a butt 
plug."

"Yes Ma'am."

Moments passed.  The impulse to run was so strong.  I 
could so easily see myself suddenly struggling to get 
myself put back together, tripping on the way out.  I 
heard the door open.  Jane's eyes were still on mine and I 
hadn't moved.  Footsteps came in, behind me.  "Give me 
your wrists," came Kara's voice.

*I can't do this!*  She took hold of one of my arms, 
gently pulling it back.  Then the other.  *I can't be 
allowing this!*  I felt metal.  And a click.  Then her 
hand went on my ass, just sort of caressing.  *I can't be 
letting this happen,* I was saying it over and over again 
in my head.  Jane's eyes were still locked with mine.  
Kara's hand slipped to the side of my hip.  And then, 
suddenly, something was against my anus.  Pressing.  
"Relax it," said Kara.

*This can't be happening.*  "A little more," said Kara.  
She pressed harder.  It slipped in.  She giggled just a 
second.  She gave my rear a little pat, then ran a hand 
around my body, all the way to my nipple, trailing off her 
fingers in a quick, light caress.  I almost fainted, and 
realized I was totally turned on.

"Bring in the Sybian," said Jane.

"Yes Ma'am," came Kara's voice, somewhat behind me now, 
back toward the door.  I still stood there, helpless.

"Oh, and get out the cane," said Jane.  Finally, she 
smiled.


************

More stories of mine:

http://groups.google.com/groups?q=author:cyan%40protgp.com

http://cyan.protgp.com/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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