Pleasing Emma

by jamaica

Copyright© 2012 by jamaica

BDSM Sex Story: I fall under the spell of a captivating but very cruel girl.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Blackmail   Mind Control   Slavery   Heterosexual   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Light Bond   Humiliation   Sadistic   Torture   Oral Sex   Petting   Food   Water Sports   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Foot Fetish   Leg Fetish   Violent   .

"So, Mark, read the brief?" Vickers is looking keenly at me. He's one of the senior managers and I'm sat in his office. I nod. "Sounds interesting," I say. "But hopefully not TOO interesting, eh?" says Vickers, joshing me. I shoot him a grin - I've passed my exams and qualified (a lawyer now!) and this is the first time I'm to be let loose with 'in charge' responsibility away from the office. A fraud investigation and me and a couple of juniors are going in to do some prep before the big boys get involved. We'll be there a week. Company is out of town, so it's a hotel gig, starts Monday morning and it's now Friday afternoon. Bit of a rush to get ready! "Okay, so away you go," says Vickers. "I'll pop out middle of the week and check how we're doing. Happy with your team? Emma and Ken?" "Sure," I tell him, which is true enough.

Emma Mills, that's good, that's very good. She's a hottie - the best looking girl in the firm by miles. Emma Mills is fucking gorgeous! Every guy from the senior partner to the janitor fancies the pants of her. Me, I'm about in the middle, and I'm totally no exception. I fancy the pants off her. I've got a girlfriend and she's pretty and I like her, but if Emma is ever interested ... well let's just say so am I. A week in close proximity to Ms Mills? Four nights in the same hotel? Yep, I'll take it. Chance to really get to 'know' her if you take my drift. And zero male competition because I've also got Ken. No intention of getting to know him any better than I already do, which is depressingly well. Kenneth Longbottom. Oh god. Guy's a joke. Must be at least ten years older than me and still a junior for fuck's sake, failing his exams for about the hundredth time just as I'm passing them first go. Says it all, doesn't it? Bit of a sack he is too – the sort you can bully around and rip the piss out of. Poor guy gets a hard time around the firm and I have to admit I'm one of the main tormentors. Can be quite entertaining.

There's time for a short meeting, the three of us, to get our ducks in a row, and it goes well. Goes very well.

Emma's excited. She's 22, only been with the firm six months, and eager to shine. Way she looks, that's a slam dunk. She's shining alright. Hard to say which is more fabulous, the face or the body. Not that I can totally see her body, of course, but her outfit leaves no doubt she's the complete package. As I run through the essentials I pretty much ignore Ken and concentrate on Em. She really is a 24 carat babe. Girl's so fucking horny in her tight skirt I feel like jumping her there and then. And she knows I do, I can tell. Good. I want her to know it. What's even better is how it doesn't bother her, me looking at her the way I am. Fact, she's liking the attention. Emma Mills is one of those girls who's very comfortable with guys lusting after her. Encourages it even. Like how she keeps crossing and re-crossing her legs as I'm talking, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. Yeah, she knows exactly what she's doing with that, no question. Fine by me. More than fine. I glance down periodically, ogling her luscious pins, make it clear I'm enjoying the view. Old Ken's looking too, although he's trying not to, which is funny. As if. Has the guy even been with a woman his whole life? Seriously doubt it. Brad Pitt he is not.

"So, all set?" I say, wrapping up. "Sure, Mark. I'm looking forward to it," says Emma. I like the knowing way she's grinning at me. "Kenneth?" I say, still looking at Emma. She's idly fingering a button on her blouse. It's a spectacular view already with the top three undone... 'Melons' is one of her nicknames with the guys ... if she pops this one too, oh jesus. But she doesn't. She leaves the button and turns to look at Ken. What a fucking tease! I've heard she does get off on toying with guys, loves them panting over her, but I'm praying she's not JUST a cock-teaser. Shit, I already want to nail this sexy little bitch so bad I can hardly think straight!

I'm also looking at Ken now. "Ken, you okay?" I prod. "Err..." The clown is rifling through his notes, thinking I want an intelligent question. I roll my eyes for Emma's benefit and she sniggers. "Just 'Yes, Mark' will do fine," I snap at the guy, enjoying playing the bossman in front of Emma Mills. He stops fumbling with his papers and goes a bit red. "Sorry. Yes, Mark. All set."

"Okay, so see you at the station Monday. Bright and early - we're on the 8:37."

All goes swimmingly. First thing, when we've met up, is I explain about expenses. We've got a maximum for the week, I tell them, and the best way, rather than divvy up, is I'll pay for everything and do one big claim at the end. I've already got our tickets, I say. They're both cool with this. Wouldn't matter if they weren't since I'm running the show. Then the snag. A little wheeze I've come up with to get some time alone with Emma. The budget's only enough for two of us to travel first class, I say, and I ask for a volunteer to go second, staring at Ken. He gets the message and puts his hand up. "Me then, I guess." I give him his ticket and a pat on the back. "Ken, you're a prince," I say, grinning at Emma who's trying not to laugh. I feast my eyes on her for a moment. Her travel attire is super-tight blue jeans, little suede boots, skimpy tee-shirt, leather jacket. She looks fantastically fuckable.

Check my watch – 8:15. "Anybody fancy a quick coffee?"

"Not for me, thanks," says Ken. "I'd love one," says Emma. "Didn't have time this morning. Overslept. Only just about managed to shower and get dressed." Cue visions of her naked, soaping herself under a jet of warm water. The mischievous look she tosses in my direction says she knows exactly what's going on in my head. In Ken's too, no doubt, but her sexy, insinuating smile is 110% for me. She's definitely decided to flirt with the boss! And Ken? Big fat zero for him, I'm afraid. Poor sod is getting ignored again by a drop-dead gorgeous girl. Apart from just now ... this 'volunteering' business ... she's barely looked at him since we got here. "Okay, you and me then, Em," I say, fishing a note from my wallet. I glance over at the Starbucks. There's a queue. Good. I don't bother looking at Ken, just wave the money in his direction. "Do the honours, Kenny, there's a good chap. Coffee for the first class passengers." That makes Emma giggle. Ken takes the cash. He really is pathetic. You can treat him like shit and he just takes it. Dork. "Er, haven't you forgotten something?" I say, as he makes to go. "Umm ... have I?" "Yeah, you have. How do you know what sort of coffee?" "You're cappuccino no sugar, Mark, aren't you?" he chirps. Which is bang on, I have to admit. Guess he's fetched me one so often from the office machine that he's got it hard-coded. "And Emma? Doesn't she count around here?" I say, winking at Em. Ken looks suitably embarrassed. "Ah, okay. Sorry." "Don't say sorry to me, Ken. It's Emma you need to be apologising to." Emma is finding this very amusing, I can tell from the look in her eyes, but she's keeping a straight face.


"So go on then," I order. "Tell her you're sorry and ask her what she wants."

"Um, I'm sorry, Emma. What would you like?" Emma's fighting back the giggles. "Well let me see," she muses, finger on chin, taking her time. "I think what I'd really love right now is a skinny double macchiato decaf with two sugars and a nice big dollop of whipped cream on top. How's that?" "Okay," he mumbles, setting off again. It's fucking hilarious. "Er, Ken?" I call him back. "D'you wanna maybe just repeat that back to her? You know, make sure you've got it." He does, says the whole thing back to Emma and he gets it correct as it happens. There's a problem, though. "You've forgotten the most important bit!" Emma announces, chiding him. Ken looks confused. "Shot of vanilla. I said that, Ken, didn't I? Sure I did." She turns to me. "I did say with a shot of vanilla, Mark, didn't I?" I nod. "Yeah, Em, definitely. Shot of vanilla. C'mon, Kenny, wake up! Want you on-the-ball this week." "Okay." Ken doesn't want to argue. Very wise. We finally let him trot off and join the Starbucks queue. Both of us crease up when he's gone. "Poor guy!" giggles Emma. "That was a bit naughty of us, Mark, wasn't it?" I grin at her. "Yeah, guess so. He's such a total twat, though."

When Ken returns we don't break off our conversation, Emma and I, we just put our hands out for the drinks. Emma takes a sip... "Mmm, lovely!" ... and then she asks whether she can send him back to get her a chocolate muffin. She really fancies one, she says. "Sorry, Em, train's going in five minutes," I tell her. "Okay, never mind then," she says, putting on a sulky pout. "My fault. Should have asked for one before." "Or maybe our Ken here should have asked you," I say, looking daggers at the poor sod. "Yeah, why didn't you ask me, Kenny?" ... Emma looks rather pissed off with him too now... "If you'd remembered to ask whether I wanted a chocolate muffin with my coffee I'd have definitely said yes." "Um, sorry, Emma," he mutters. Can you believe the guy? God. "Apology accepted, Ken," she smiles. "But try and do better in future, okay?" "Okay, Emma." "Yeah, Kenny, on your toes, we're looking for a good performance from you on this job," I cut in. "I'm really sorry, Mark," says Ken, looking sheepish. Also a bit scared, me being the boss. I stare at him as if about to deliver a serious tongue-lashing. "Okay. Least you're admitting you screwed up. Guess that's something," I say, finally. His relief is palpable. "Doesn't get Emma her muffin, though, does it? You being sorry?" I snap. Emma's just about losing it. "You bastard!" she mouths at me. Egging me on. "And you really fancied one, Em, didn't you?" I say to her. She nods gravely. "Yes, I so did. If only he'd thought to ask me."

"Don't worry, our Ken here will be making it up to you, I promise." Emma raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?" she says, a glint in her eye. "Yeah. Really." Glint in my eye too. "Anyway, look, Kenny, chance to redeem yourself..." and I give him the task of looking after our suitcases from now until the hotel. "Great, Mark!" he pipes, unbelievably. Ken's a fat lump, totally out of shape, and he wheezes a bit getting them on the trolley, especially Emma's which is easily the biggest. "Mainly clothes, Ken," she confesses as he's struggling with it. "You know how us girls are." "Not sure he does, Em, no," I can't resist. "Don't think our Kenneth's an expert on that subject. I mean, look at him, not exactly every woman's dream, is he?" Ken Longbottom is a seriously ugly guy, it has to be said. Face like a potato. "Mark, don't be so cruel!" giggles Emma, meaning the exact opposite. The bitch is getting as big a kick as I am from being mean to Ken and it's clear the two of us are going to have a lot of fun this week at the poor bastard's expense.

He's finally got the bags on the trolley and we're ready to go.

"Come on, let's not miss it." I give Ken a slap on the backside then Emma and I walk off ahead of him towards the train. We stroll down the platform sipping our coffees, Ken in behind and pushing the trolley. I look back and I catch him staring at Emma's ass - can't blame him either, the way it's undulating in the spray-on denim she's wearing. Yeah, sexy bitch is flaunting it, no question. Knows exactly what she's got going on with these jeans. I lean in and tell her that Ken is drooling. Emma smirks and turns to see for herself. "Oh my god, what a perv!" she giggles. She starts wiggling her peachy ass around even more. Poor Kenny is mesmerised! It's a great enough scenario but it gets better because Emma slips her free hand into mine. "Hey, Mark, let's make Ken really really jealous this week," she whispers. Music to my ears! Why? Well, because I sense from how she says it that Emma Mills is going to let me fuck her. Dunno whether it's down to her fancying me, or me being her boss, or even just she's decided hooking up with me will be a fun way to torture Ken. Don't know and I don't care. So, we walk hand in hand the rest of the way. Couple of times I look round and grin at Ken. Yes, he does look jealous. Very. I get an urge to do more than hold hands. What I feel like doing is slipping my arm around Emma's waist, maybe give her buttocks a squeeze too, and I almost do that. She'd like it, I reckon. Thing is, though, I'm not 110% certain she would - perhaps she'd rather take things a bit slower – and I don't want to run the risk. I'm looking forward to fucking this gorgeous bitch more than anything I've looked forward to my entire life and I'll kill myself if I blow it. I decide to let Emma make the running as regards her and me. I'll take my cues from her.

We give Ken a little wave as we disappear into our carriage, leaving him to truck along the platform on his own (with the trolley) till he reaches the second class section.

We settle into our seats and get comfortable. There's loads of space in first class and the journey is very enjoyable. For me and Em it is, anyway. Doubt Ken's liking it too much. I spend most of the time chatting Emma up and she responds – she really flirts me back. We occasionally have a bit of a giggle thinking about Ken, back there with all the cases, but apart from this we forget about him until the announcer says we'll be arriving in a few minutes.

"So ... hope Ken can get the bags off the train," muses Emma. "Fucking better do," I say. "Think I should phone him, baby?" Calling her 'baby' shows how well me and Em have got on during this train ride. We're extremely into each other now. Emma nods. "Yeah, honey, reckon you should. Don't want all my 'stuff' going astray, do we?" There's a teasing smile on her lips because she's been telling me about the clothes she's packed. She intends dressing pretty damn hot this week and my head is full of images of Em in her sexy gear. Some wet-dream outfits she's chosen by the sounds of it! God, just hearing her describe them was enough to make my dick super-hard. And Emma did describe them, believe me – all of them, one by one. Every last detail. Oh fuck. The girl really is quite naughty.

I call Ken's mobile, ask him if things are okay, has he got the bags under control bla bla? He assures me he has. Yep, he'll see us on the platform. Nope, he won't move till we find him. Yes Mark, no Mark, three bags full Mark. "Okay cheers, Kenny boy." It's amusing calling a guy who's tons older than me 'boy'. Emphasises how I'm the boss and he's a failure. Rubs the poor cunt's nose in it. Emma thinks it's funny too. "So, is 'Kenny boy' gonna be okay with our suitcases?" she asks. I grin across at her. "Yeah, he is."

"Our hero," she smirks. "And did he enjoy the journey?" "Not as much as we did, baby," I chuckle. "Guess second class is rather ... err ... second class," says Emma. I grin at her. "Poor chap couldn't get a seat apparently. Really crowded. Had to stand the whole three hours. Can you imagine, Em?" Emma laughs. "Oh no. The poor thing! And here's us with all this room." It's true. We've had a compartment pretty much to ourselves, spent most of the journey reclining opposite each other across two seats. Emma's still in this position now. "Life's not fair, is it, honey?" she giggles and she treats herself to a last luxurious stretch, arms together and over her head. She's been doing this periodically throughout and what always happens is that her tee-shirt (1) slides up her torso exposing several inches of tanned and toned belly, and (2) gets pressed tight to her bra-less breasts which jut and thrust, nipples and all, against flimsy cotton. Either (1) or (2) is quite sufficient to drive a guy crazy, but both together? ... oh sweet jesus.

So it's one more for the road, as it were, and sure enough my tongue is hanging out again. I'm just about coming in my pants, for christ's sake! Emma knows exactly what she's doing, of course. She's been teasing me senseless on the train and loving every minute of it. Bitch is laughing at me now, for instance, how I'm going nuts staring at the outline of her fabulous jugs ... yeah, the little minx is lapping it up. She stares ostentatiously at my crotch – there's an obvious bulge! – and she licks her lips. "Later, Mark honey, later," Emma giggles. Seeing there's no-one around she playfully sticks her tongue out at me, then ever-so-slowly pulls her shirt up and gives me an eyeful. God, I want her so bad when I see her naked breasts I'm almost dying. Cock's gonna fucking explode! It's actually a relief, sort of, when she pulls her top back down. Girl is SUCH a fucking cock-tease! And I don't mind because I know I'm gonna have her - she's told me this now, straight up. Told me on the train. We're gonna fuck like rabbits, me and Em, this week. Yeah, we are! Therefore no, all this cock-teasing is totally cool. Fact, I love it. Just heightens my anticipation (and hers, I sense), makes the whole thing between her and me even more unbelievably horny. As does us having poor Kenny Longbottom around to torment.

Yep, yours truly and the luscious, pouting Emma Mills are gonna have a whale of a time this week, no question!

We take a cab to the hotel. Ken sits in front with the driver and me and Em cosy up together at the back. It's a ten minute ride - any longer and I'd be in trouble because Emma gives my cock some grade A feminine attention. She rests her hand in my lap and she teases my hard-on through my pants, softly fingering the bulge, squeezing it a little then stopping, starting again, stopping ... all the time chatting away as if nothing's happening. She has me on the brink of spunking half the time but never quite pushes me over the edge. It's torture! I can't even groan or move around, have to just sit and suffer in silence. Neither Ken nor the driver have a clue what the sexy little bitch is doing. She's gonna get the fuck of her life tonight, I can tell you that! I'd love to nail her right now, actually, but we're expected at the company in less than an hour.

We check in (Ken handing luggage duties over to the porter) – three basic rooms not including breakfast have been pre-booked by the firm. Skinflints. Good news, though, I tell the team. I've done some calculations and concluded there's room in the budget for an upgrade. We have a choice, I say. Either we all upgrade to 'superior' but with no breakfast, or if one of us agrees to not upgrade at all that'll mean the other two can go for superior rooms AND including breakfast. Emma can decide, I say. "Me?" she says. "Sure, Em. Why not? What do you reckon?" Emma ponders for a moment then turns to Ken. "What do YOU think, Ken?" "Well, all of us going superior but no breakfast ... that sounds fairest?" He's surprised and pleased to be consulted. Emma nods. "It does, doesn't it? Yes, definitely." "Great!" says Ken. Emma smiles, picks up her laptop - looks like it's agreed. Then she has second thoughts. "Thing is, I do rather fancy the breakfast," she muses. She looks at Ken and then at me. "Oh god, Mark, this is sooo difficult!" "Up to you, Em. Just say." She considers the matter and makes up her mind. "Okay, I really like having breakfast so I'll take an upgrade." "Fair enough," I say. "And the other upgrade? Me or Ken for that?" She grins at me. "Well, we can't have the boss in the worst room, can we?" I'm grinning too. Only person who isn't is Ken. He's not the sharpest tool in the box but he's worked out from this little exchange that he's stuck with the 'basic room no breakfast' package. "I'm sorry, Ken," says Emma, not looking sorry at all. "Um, s'okay, Emma," he mumbles, poor guy.

We check in ("Yes, upgrade for Mr Reynolds and Ms Mills please. Mr Longbottom? No, he's happy with basic") and I say to meet back in the lobby in half an hour. "That long enough for you to get out of those tight jeans, Em?" I flirt. "Have to be, Mark, won't it?" she giggles.

She's slightly late coming down, keeps Ken and I waiting a few minutes. Forget that, though, because she looks amazing. She's put her hair up – very businesslike – and she's wearing a form-fitting pencil skirt, cut on the knee. Matching jacket, white silk blouse with just a hint of cleavage, ultra-sheer tights and heels. Make-up is restrained, touch of red lipstick on her full lips, fingernails painted also red. Longing stares from every guy in the lobby (including me and Ken) as Emma comes across to where we're sitting. She's aware of all the male attention, playing up to it with how she's walking. It's a teasing, 'I know you guys wanna fuck me but sorry, no chance, yeah I realise you're all lusting, and I love it, but you can't have me' ... kind of a walk. Course, there's one guy there who WILL be getting to fuck the hot little bitch, isn't there? Yeah! Emma gets to us and puts her laptop down on the floor, treating Ken and I to a peep down her blouse. We get a glimpse of luscious breasts encased in a skimpy white lace bra. Oh god. "Okay, guys?" she grins. Doesn't even bother apologising for being late. Knows she's worth waiting for. "Ms Mills, you look stunning," I tell her. "Why thank you, kind sir!" Emma smiles and pouts and strikes a sexy pose. "Thought I ought to wear something nice for day one." I happen to know she'll be wearing something even 'nicer' on days two, three, four and five. Where 'nice' here means 'designed to drive men wild!'. This look she has now, though, it's bang on target. Sexy and sophisticated, not easy for a 22 year old girl to pull off, but she's definitely done it. I give Em the full ogle. "Yeah, nice, that's one way of putting it. But I'd more say totally fucking gorgeous!" Emma giggles. The girl just loves hearing stuff like that. And she's used to it. "Doesn't she, Ken?" I say. "Doesn't Em look utterly gorgeous?" He's gone red. Embarrassed. "Doesn't she, Ken?" Kenny's really blushing now. "Um, yes," he manages. "Yes what?" I snap. "She looks g-g-gorgeous." Poor guy's started to stutter. Must be stress. "No, Kenneth, not just plain g-g-gorgeous. She looks UTTERLY g-g-gorgeous is what we agreed, didn't we?" Ken nods. "Right, so tell her then. You want to hear it, Em, don't you?" "Yes, I'd really love that," grins Emma. "A girl likes to get compliments. Especially from men who find her attractive."

"There you go, Ken, see? Emma knows you find her attractive and she wants to hear you say it. Tell her ... tell Em she's looking utterly gorgeous." Poor guy has to do it. "Um, Emma, you're l-l-looking utterly g-g-gorgeous." He tries to look at Em's face while he's saying this but he can't - ends up looking at her feet. Stutter seems to have got worse too. Em's giggling and looking at me with an expectant 'okay, what next?' expression. She wants to carry on tormenting him. So do I – it IS funny – but there isn't time right now. "Attaboy, Kenny!" I say. "There ... wasn't so difficult, was it? Anyway, c'mon, let's get going, they're expecting us."

It's only a short walk to the company where we're working. We have a laptop each, plus a bag with all our papers and stationary and stuff in, so we don't have that much to carry. Emma has nothing to carry, in fact, (except her little handbag) because I suggest that Ken acts 'the gentleman' and takes her computer. He also has the bag, so he is slightly overloaded, I guess, but he can just about manage.

We get there and I handle the whole start-up thing. I introduce Emma as 'my colleague' and Ken as 'our assistant'. Which raises eyebrows with them since Ken is so much older than me (even more older than Emma). We get a quick guided tour of the premises (quite funny how Ken straggles along at the rear with two laptops plus bag ... really does look like 'the assistant') and then our contact, this middle-aged accountant guy called Phil, shows us where we'll be based for the week. It's great. We've got our own office with all the facilities. The door has a lock and I explain to Phil that the nature of what we're doing means privacy is paramount. He already knows this, it seems, and he gives me the key, assuring me it's the only one. "Cheers, I'll give it back before we leave on Friday," I tell him. Rules are that the door will be locked at all times whether we're in or out. Nobody goes in apart from us – if we want to see or talk to anyone we'll either ring through or come out. Shouldn't be much of that, provided we have full computer access to the company's systems. "Sure thing, Mark," says Phil. "And we've also put all the relevant files in here for you guys ... you know, invoices, contracts, all that stuff."

"Oh and the bathrooms are just around the corner," he adds. "Left out of the room, turn right for the gents, left for the ladies." He gives Em another lingering look on 'ladies'. He's been trying not to make it too obvious that he's drooling but I can tell and so can Emma. Needless to say, all the guys at the company were ogling her like crazy during our tour. "Thank you, Phil," she pouts, giving the poor guy a little flirt. We know what old Phil's going to be thinking about for the rest of the week, don't we? Bet he's already racking his brains for ways he can maximise his sightings of the delectable Ms Mills. Sorry pal, I'm thinking, the interaction's gonna be strictly minimal. "Okay, so see you later," says Phil, exiting. "Yeah, thanks Phil," I say. I close the door and lock it. "Right, you two, let's get started!"

First things first – lunch. I send Kenny out for sandwiches. Has he got enough cash, I ask. Yes he has, but it'll clean him out. Well that's okay then, isn't it? I tell him. The order is simplicity itself, we all want a 'BLT' (bacon, lettuce and tomato). When he's gone and I've locked the door, Em lets me kiss her. Nothing too raunchy, just a nice snog, but it still gives me quite a hard-on. I get about ten minutes of this until there's a knock and Kenny's back with the BLTs. We break off snogging – which I don't find easy, believe me – and I'm about to let him in when Emma points out I've got traces of lipstick on my face and neck. Ah right. I pull a tissue but she stops me, says it'll be fun to watch Ken's expression when he sees it and knows we've been kissing. "Yeah, make him jealous, right?" I say. "Right," she grins. It works a dream. I open the door and Ken's face when he sees me is a picture. He'd be green if he weren't white and pasty. So funny! I'm picturing a whole ton of this 'make Ken jealous' stuff during the rest of the week. Have loads of suggestions which I can't wait to run by Emma. Bet she's got a few of her own too – 'MKJ' was her idea in the first place, after all.

She's pointing at my face now. "Mark, honey ... lipstick," she giggles. "Whatever will Ken here think of us?" She roots in her bag and passes me a mirror. I grin at her, then at Ken. "Whoops," I say, mock-sheepishly. Now I do use a tissue and wipe it away. "Sorry, Kenny," I say, shrugging at him in a 'well, you know how it is' kind of way. Course, he DOESN'T know how it is, does he? No. That's the point.

We sit round the table in the middle of the room to eat the sandwiches. "Hey, good boy, Kenny, these look great!" I say, unwrapping mine. Ken kind of nods. He's got his one out of the packet now. They really do look nice, these BLTs. "God, I am hungry!" says Emma, unwrapping hers too. "Probably because you didn't get your muffin this morning." I say, glint in my eye. Emma nods. "Yeah, that's it, I reckon." She throws Ken a mean look. "And we never really punished him properly, Mark, did we? You know, for not getting me one."

"Nope. We didn't."

Me and Em look at each other for a moment. Should we give the wretched guy a break and just eat lunch? Let me check with her. "Do you wanna punish him now, babe?" I ask. If Ken had any doubt that me and Em are now an item, that 'babe' has removed it. Emma ponders for a second. Ken's kind of fingering his BLT, wanting to start eating but sensing he'd better wait till she's pronounced. She finally does and it's bad news for Ken. "It's not that I WANT to punish him, honey, it's just I think we probably should. You know, so he learns." The bitch is merciless! "Okay, sure, baby. So how should we do that?" I'm intrigued as to what she'll come up with. It turns out to be pretty brilliant. "Well, what I'm thinking, honey, is ... I missed breakfast 'cos of him, right?"

"Yeah, baby, no muffin. Scandal."

"Okay, so how about he misses lunch? That's fair, Mark, isn't it?"

"What, tomorrow?"

"No, honey, today. Now."

I hold up my BLT. "But we've already got lunch, baby." Emma grins. "Yeah ... but we haven't started eating it, have we?" True. We haven't. "Ah, so we split Ken's between us, that what you mean, Em? Not sure I want another half a BLT. They're pretty big ones." "No, me neither," says Emma. "What I mean is that Ken throws his away instead of eating it." Ken's shaking his head. "Mark, I'm h-h-hungry. I haven't eaten all day." I look at Em and she gives a little shrug – 'tough titty' is what it's saying. "Sorry, Ken, lunch is off," I tell him. "There's a bin over there."

"But M-M-Mark..." "Bin!" I snap, pointing at it. Ken lumbers up from the table and goes to ditch his sandwich. Poor bastard. "Kiss it goodbye first, if you like," I call over. Ken's not sure if I'm serious, so he takes no chances and he does – he gives his BLT a wistful little kiss before dropping it in the bin. Emma can't believe this. "Oh my god," she giggles, cracking up. He comes back to the table and we make him sit there and watch us eat lunch. I wolf mine down, it's gone in no time, but Em eats hers very slowly, relishing each mouthful. "Mmm, this is so yummy," she keeps saying. She picks out bits of bacon and waves the food under Ken's nose, tantalises the poor guy, before popping it into her mouth. At one point, a small piece of tomato falls out of her sandwich onto the table. "Oops," she says, looking down. She leaves it there till she's finished... "that was just delicious!" ... then she starts poking it around with her finger. "Would you like this tomato, Kenny?" Emma pushes it in his direction, making it crystal clear she wants a yes. Ken duly nods. Emma winks at me. "Ask me nicely then," she tells him. Think she's realised (after that 'kissing his BLT goodbye' business) just how helpless Kenny is and she's decided to really enjoy herself. Such a bitch, she is! "P-P-Please, Emma, m-m-may I have the tom-m-m-mato?" God, she's got the guy actually begging her for this tiny bit of tomato. Unbelievable. "Pretty please?" she taunts. "P-P-Pretty p-p-p-p-please." His stammer's getting worse and worse! "Okay, here you go," she grins and she flicks the tomato in his direction. It goes on the floor, unfortunately. Ken stoops to pick it up. "No, use your mouth," orders Emma. "More efficient." So he gets down and he kind of licks this tomato mess off the floor. It's quite a sight. Emma's wetting her knickers and so am I. "Okay, good," snaps Em. "Now, back to the table!" She's talking to him like he's a dog now. Ken obeys. Has to, he knows, but I can tell from his shamed expression that he hates himself for letting me and Emma (and especially Emma) treat him like this. "Was that nice, Kenny, that tomato?" she inquires. "Um..." Poor guy doesn't know what to say. I decide to chip in – join the fun. "You're too good to him, baby, you know that?" I need to keep amusing and impressing Em with what a bastard I can be. More I do that, the more she likes me, I've noticed. "Yes, I know," she nods. "He was meant to be missing lunch, Mark, wasn't he?" "Yeah. Could do with skipping a few meals too - fat bastard!" I smirk. "Should we put him on a diet?" Em wonders. We agree to discuss this later because there's a job to do and we need to get cracking!

We check our log-ons on one of the office PCs (no probs – thanks, Phil) and generally sort ourselves out. It's a great set-up - they've done us proud. There's even a little kitchenette type area, kettle, coffee and tea, the works. As well as the table in the middle where we had lunch there are three nice big individual desks, one for each team member. Or perhaps not, because (as I explain) we need one of the desks to put our stuff on – papers, stationery, phone and laptop chargers, this sort of thing. That's a task for Ken, to unpack our bag and lay the contents on the desk. "Keep it neat," I tell him as he's doing it.

We get settled into our respective places. "Cool," Em says, firing up her laptop. "Can you bring me over a pad, Ken?" she says. "And a pen." "Me too, Kenny, if you don't mind," I say. He does this and now he's kind of stood there, not sure what to do next. Emma and I spend a few minutes familiarising ourselves with the company's systems, chatting inconsequentially about this and that. Finally, there's a noise. It's Ken coughing in a bid for my attention. Guy's still standing there like a loose thread. "Oh hi, Ken," I say. "Sorry, mate, what do you want?" "Er, where am I sitting, Mark?" he asks me. "You'll be moving around depending on what you're doing, so you don't need anywhere permanent." "Um, okay. But what about now?" he wonders. "Now? Why don't you sit back at the table over there? Just give me a second and we'll get together. I need to run you guys through the plan, how we're splitting the work etc." Off he goes. Looking just slightly happier. The 'second' ends up being more like two hours, during which time Emma and I carry on what we were doing - surfing around on our laptops and discussing various facets of the job. She's a very bright girl, Emma, no doubt about that. Ken? He's just sat there at the table. Keeps glancing over, trying to catch my eye, but I ignore him. Emma does too. It's like he isn't there. Eventually, I look at my watch. "Shit, nearly five o'clock!" Emma looks surprised too. "Hey, Mark, aren't we meant to be getting the plan agreed before we leave today?" "Damn right," I say, "Ken, why didn't you remind me, for fuck's sake?" "S-S-Sorry, Mark," he stammers. "Yeah, so you're always saying. Good job Em's awake, isn't it? Hope I'm not gonna have to rely on her for everything this week." He looks down. Too ashamed to meet my steely gaze. "C'mon then, Em," I say, going over to join Ken. She follows and we're finally ready to talk 'plan'.

The work divides naturally into two types. There's the interesting, career-helping stuff (deciding on techniques and methods etc etc) and then there's what you'd call the 'grunt work', this being things like rooting out and checking invoices, filing, photocopying, all those sorts of menial but still necessary bits and pieces. With Ken being far and away more experienced than Emma, you'd expect that he'd be doing a lot of the category one work and she'd be stuck with the crap. Imagine the surprise, therefore, when this gets flipped around so that Emma gets all the good stuff and Ken the rest. Shouldn't be such a massive shock – he's already been tagged as 'the assistant', let's face it – but from their reactions it does seem to be. Ken's looking crestfallen. Even thinking about protesting. "But M-M-Mark..." he starts up, preparing to whinge. "Yeah yeah, I know," I cut him off. "Doesn't seem fair. But Emma's one of the brightest trainees we have. It's important to develop her. Whereas you, well..." I leave the thought unfinished. There's no need to say what he and I both know. The guy's a plank and he's been all but written off at the firm. In fact, Vickers has made it clear to Ken (and I got told this too) that if he doesn't get a decent appraisal report from me for this job he'll be out on his ear. So he needs to really try and impress. Maybe that's why he thinks twice about complaining and goes quiet. And Emma? She's absolutely delighted! So much so that she blows me a big kiss. This, plus the very cute way she's looking at me, tells me I'll be getting my reward later on. Oh god, can't wait! I decide to make things even better for her. Looking at Ken, I say, "And also – just thinking on my feet here – maybe what we do is adjust the team structure, make it so I'm still in charge overall but Emma runs things as regards the actual work. Be good to give her some supervisory experience." I pause to let this sink in. Emma gets it straightaway, of course. Like I say, brainy girl. She's even more chuffed with the arrangement now. "Okay, Mark, so just to be clear - plan is that Ken works for me. I'm, like, his boss for the week," she grins. "Spot on, baby," I say. "I'll be keeping overall tabs on things - the superboss, if you like – but as far as Kenny goes you're his direct superior. Entirely up to you, Em, how you wanna play that."

"Understood?" I snap, turning to Ken. He nods. I haven't quite finished. "Oh and your appraisal..."

This gets his attention.

" ... be logical if Em does it. I'll sign it, obviously, so it's all official, but she'll be deciding your grade. Need at least a 3, don't you?" He nods again. This is what Vickers has said. We have five grades (running from 1 'excellent' to 3 'average' down to 5 'very poor') and Ken has to get a 3 on this job, else he's for the chop. Guy's under serious pressure. I glance at Emma. She's loving this! A sly smile spreads across her lovely face. "Hey, you'll still be doing my appraisal, honey, won't you? ... you're still MY boss, right?"

"Yeah, baby, I'll be doing yours. No worries." Think we know what grade the gorgeous Emma Mills will be getting, don't we? SHE certainly knows.

"And what's that 'Kenny needs a 3' all about?" Emma's not been privy to this. It's meant to be confidential between me, Ken and Vickers. I fill her in and you should see the look in her beautiful big brown eyes as she processes this new information – it's positively fiendish. Is she thinking what I'm thinking? You bet she is! She turns to Ken with a very wicked grin. "So ... Kenny ... looks like you'd better try your absolute best to please me, eh?" "Yes, Emma," he mumbles. He's in for a bad time and I guess he realises this. Absolutely nothing he can do about it either, poor bastard.

It's time to leave now. No way I want to be working late on the first day. We can leave all our stuff since the room is secure, so just a matter of me and Em logging out and we're good to go. Only thing that delays us slightly is Emma spots a speck of dust on one of her shoes - the left one. Neither I nor Ken can see it but she can – it's definitely there, she says. "Would you mind dealing with it?" she asks Ken, pointing down at her shoe. Ken's bright enough to know it's not a question. It's an order from his 'boss' and so he'd better fucking do it or else. He fishes a tissue from his jacket pocket. "No need for that, Kenny," says Em. "I'd rather you used your tongue. Come on, I want it spotless when you've finished." Oh god, the girl is gonna make the guy grovel at her feet and lick her shoe! And she does. Poor fucker has to get down on the floor, hands and knees, and lick this 'dust' off Emma's left shoe. "And no looking up my skirt," she giggles. She keeps him at it for maybe five minutes and meanwhile Em just stands and chats to me about a few things she's finding interesting about how the company's records are set up. Sharp girl, she is. Not the reason I've arranged things this way, course not, but it probably makes sense that she's doing all the interesting and mentally challenging bits of the job. She's miles cleverer than old Ken.

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