My Boss

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From time to time I get requests from readers to write a specific story for them. There are a few I don’t bother with but most I will consider. This is one of them.

In this case the unnamed reader was very specific at what he or she wanted from the story.

I just hope I fulfilled their requirements and they like what I’ve written.

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

Three things happened to me on my eighteenth birthday. The first was that my friends took me to a nightclub in town to celebrate my coming of age.

I’ve no idea why eighteen is deemed to be so significant a birthday to say it’s a ‘Coming of Age’ event because we can do most things in the UK from the age of sixteen. Well everything that is except drink legally. But then most people have at least tried alcohol before then.

The second thing was that I met my future husband; Calum Graham; that night. He was – and still is – lovely. He seemed a bit shy at first especially when he was being egged on by his mates to chat me up. They ribbed him mercilessly until he eventually came over to speak to me. It wasn’t a problem though. I too was a bit introverted in those days and thought his shyness was nice.

There was nothing nice about him though when he gave me a lift home at the end of the night. My friends had all paired off so it left Calum and me on our own.

I guess it was my own fault. Already drunk, I’d insisted on having one last drink just before we left and that was the one that tipped me over the edge. I was definitely drowsy, drifting in and out of sleep as he drove me home before he pulled his car off the main road and down a farm track.

I have to admit what happened next is a bit of a blur. I suppose I enjoyed it, I definitely remember kissing him a lot and I sort of remember him fondling my boobies, which I guess I liked. Then he climbed on top of me. And that’s when things get a bit hazy. I think I screamed a couple of times and when we’d finished I felt quite content and warm inside. But a few weeks later I wasn’t so happy when I missed my period. Neither were mum and dad when I told them I was keeping the baby.

They were amazed when Calum stepped up to the plate and not only told me he was going to support me when I had the baby but that he wanted us to get married. Whilst I was happy with his offer of financial help I wasn’t so keen on his marital idea. It seemed such a flippant notion. After all I barely knew him. Despite my misgivings, mum and dad; especially my dad; were delighted.

All through my pregnancy Calum courted me and despite the unusual circumstances leading to the start of our relationship, I soon found myself falling in love with him.

He began to tick all the right boxes in what I suspected I wanted in a mate. He was moderately good looking, of medium height and build with blues eyes, messy blond hair, which he refused to get cut and a stubbly beard, which he refused to shave off even when I complained it made my chin sore when he kissed me.

He wasn’t athletic, he certainly wasn’t a jock, indeed never had been as far as I was aware, which made it strange that he worked in a sports shop but nevertheless he was in pretty good shape. He could also make me laugh. Anytime things were going badly in my life I could always guarantee that Calum would make my bad mood go away. It wasn’t that he told jokes it was just a way he had of lifting my spirits with his sense of sarcastic humour.

Sexually I figured we were more than compatible. In spite of having sex with him on the night we first met it was weeks before I let him anywhere near my body again, although that saying of stable door and horse springs readily to mind.

This time I was sober; obviously as I knew I was pregnant by this time; and I have to say it exceeded my expectations. Obviously I was no expert but Calum seemed to be reasonably well endowed. He certainly stretched my pussy as he struggled to enter me. But then again I wasn’t as lubricated as I had been the first time. That night I’d been sloppy wet.

After that, sex became a daily event. I realised I liked being fucked and even with my limited knowledge of sexual intercourse, Calum seemed to be pretty good at it.

Around three months before my nineteenth birthday I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. We called him Noah because the night he’d been conceived we’d had a deluge of biblical proportions. With his blond hair and blue eyes he looked the spitting image of his dad.

Six months after that we got married and moved into our first home. It was a one bedroomed flat above a small supermarket that was located in a parade of shops on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t ideal, in fact it was quite shitty really but it was all we could afford at the time.

Life overall was good. Sometimes financially it was a struggle but we had a good circle of friends as well as supportive families. Now and again we even found time for a social life although it was often Calum going out on a pub crawl with his mates or me going clubbing with my girlfriends. antalya escort But we weren’t jealous of our time apart and had complete trust that neither of us was going to stray.

I know I’m attractive to men. Calum told me the first time he saw me that he was attracted by my smile and that he thought I was way better than just pretty. He says he loves the fact that I have long brown hair that hangs down past my shoulders and he absolutely adores my green eyes and the shape of my red lips.

I get chatted up all the time when out, sometimes even when Calum is stood right next to me. When I was younger I was often called cute but as I’d got older the comments changed. I was now told I was ‘really pretty’ and now and again ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous’. Of course I knew they were just lines from men hoping to get inside my panties but it did my ego good to hear it every now and again.

I suspect though that they were far more interested in my body and especially my boobs. They were quite a size before I had Noah but following my pregnancy they grew a couple of cup sizes bigger to become a full and firm, sweater filling 34E. To go with them I have a waist of 27″ and hips of 34″. Despite the size of my waist I still have a slender build. At 5’6″ tall I have fairly long legs, which are a bit too skinny for my liking and my backside whilst shapely is certainly no bubble butt. But Calum seems quite happy with how my body is.

I’d left school at sixteen with no idea of what I wanted to do other than I didn’t want to go to college or university. I’d hated my time at school and had no desire to continue with my education. So I’d drifted from one job to the next, which drove my parents wild. I knew I was being awkward especially with my attitude and the way I spoke to them sometimes but I told them I was an adult now and they were still treating me like a little kid, telling me what to do and when to do it.

Looking back on those years with the benefit of hindsight I know that they were only trying to help and were concerned about my apparent lack of self esteem and motivation. But having Noah made me grow up quickly and accept that it was me that was ultimately responsible for my own life. I also knew that at some point in time I would have to get a job. Calum was on a zero hours contract at the sports shop and his wage was nothing to write home about and with very little overtime being made available he wouldn’t be able to support us on his own for too long.

So after discussing it with Calum I enrolled at the local college and took a business administration and secretarial course. Mum was a godsend. She offered to look after Noah and thereafter became a doting grandmother, spoiling him rotten.

After I got my qualifications I landed a job at a small builders yard. The owner employed three blokes who seemed to spend more time in the yard than actually out on site working. They all took a shine to me but in a good way. They were very protective of me, treating me as if I was their own daughter. They even gave me a pet name of ‘little princess’.

I worked there for a couple of years until we were all made redundant when the company went bust. It wasn’t the owners fault. A larger company had subcontracted him to do some formwork for them. He bought the rebar, did the work and then they refused to pay him, making up excuse after excuse as to why they couldn’t. I thought it was so unfair but apparently it happens a lot in the construction industry.

After that I registered with a number of employment agencies but at that time there didn’t seem to be much of a demand for secretarial staff. I did get two temporary placements but they were only for a couple of weeks each as holiday cover.

I finally got a break about two months after my twenty first birthday when I went to work for Wynne & Son Accountants. Again I was taken on as a temporary secretary, this time as maternity cover, which meant if they were happy with me I was guaranteed at least six months work.

I actually liked the job a lot and was delighted when the girl I’d been temping for decided she wasn’t going to return. I was offered her position on a permanent, full time basis and accepted without hesitation. Caring for Noah wasn’t going to be a problem as mum was besotted with her grandson and was happy to continue to look after him full time.

It wasn’t a big company, in total there were seven of us in the office. Brian Wynne was the boss and main accountant, Janice and Martin who provided our book-keeping services and George who was our trainee accountant. Then there was myself, Mavis and part timer Chantelle to provide the admin and secretarial support. Brian’s father Donald, who had started the company was still employed as a consultant but he only came in once a month if that.

The atmosphere at work was formal but relaxed. Brian proved to be a great boss and was liked and respected by everyone. We were expected to work hard although he was quite easy going and treated us fairly. I think he was around alanya escort forty years of age but didn’t look it. He had a dominating personality and was tall with dark hair and dark eyes.

At first I was almost scared of him with his stand offish demeanour but I think I actually had a bit of a schoolgirl crush going on. Just being in his presence made me blush furiously and my heart beat a little bit faster and I have to confess that now and again in those early days I even fantasied about what it would be like to be with him.

I know it was stupid but that’s all it was, a fantasy. Brian was happily married to Julia with whom he had two children. Every now and again she would breeze into the office liked she owned the place, demanding to see Brian even if he was with clients. At first she ignored me. I was just a temp so why would she lower herself to talk to me. Things altered though when I got taken on permanently.

She then became quite chatty, taking an interest in my life, asking about my husband and my child. She was always nice but gradually after that I noticed a hardening of her attitude towards me. I don’t know why that was. Maybe I was being paranoid but she didn’t seem as friendly as she had been.

Despite our limited household budget I still wanted to dress well for my job especially after I was taken on permanently. There was no uniform but jeans and a tee shirt were definitely not allowed. So the men all wore suits and the women either wore dresses, or skirts and trousers with nice tops. Nothing sporty however. According to Mr Wynne we were a professional company and had to always present that formal image to the public.

My problem was that I didn’t have that much spare money to spend on loads of clothes but mum stepped in and offered to help me out. That was a godsend although she did tell me that whatever she bought would be my combined birthday and Christmas presents for the next year. I was happy to accept, knowing full well, as did she, that I would still get some Christmas presents from her anyway.

The shopping trip with mum was … erm … interesting to say the least. Being young I was horrified at some of the clothes she kept showing me. In the end and against my mum’s wishes I ended up with the type of clothing that in hindsight was probably better suited for going out at night rather than formal work wear. But I didn’t see it like that at the time. I didn’t select many dresses but those I did, they like all my skirts, were fashionably short. Not too bad when I was standing but sitting down they did tend to ride up my legs maybe a little bit too high. Mum also bought me a couple of pairs of shoes but I insisted that they had to have a least a 4″ heel, although she did say, ‘I’d be sorry’.

She also bought me some lingerie, which included stockings and suspenders. I had to wear something as bare legs were frowned on at work and ever since I’d been old enough to wear them I’d had a problem with tights. There were a number of reasons but I particularly didn’t like the way the waistband dug into my stomach. After a while it hurt.

Anyway back at work and despite revealing a lot of my legs with my short skirts, I thought I looked great. The older women weren’t judgemental although Mrs Wynne on the odd occasions she came into the office seemed less than impressed at the way I was dressed. Mr Wynne – Brian – didn’t seemed bothered, in fact I’m sure he never even noticed.

Despite the fact I was now a young wife and mother I was still unbelievably naive. I also didn’t look my age. I still had the look of a young teenager but with the body of woman. It made for some interesting times especially when I got asked for ID when out with my girlfriends.

Over the next few months I began to notice that Mr Wynne – Brian, was becoming more friendly. He began to converse with me more, asking for my opinion on things rather than just firing orders at me as he passed by. I was probably reading too much into it but I felt that I was perhaps a little bit more special to him than Mavis or Chantelle were.

I know it was stupid. Obviously he was just more comfortable with me working there as I now knew more about the business and how it functioned. I was beginning to grow into my role and become a worthwhile contributor to the success of the company rather than a temporary someone who just rocked up to work every day and took home a wage.

Things were great. And then they changed.

The Incident

The day started like all the others. Around ten o’clock I went into the kitchen to make everyone a cup of coffee. I did it most days and didn’t mind. And then Martin came in. I could smell the booze on his breath the moment he entered the room. I’d smelled it on him before but never this strong.

He’d always struck me as a bit geeky and I’d suspected for some time that maybe he had a bit of a thing for me. More times than I care to remember I’d seen his surreptitious glances at my body when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I belek escort just took it as totally harmless.

“Morning Martin,” I said as I turned to face him, “coffee?”

He didn’t answer but just stared at me. I followed the direction of his eyes. They were locked solid onto my boobs. He’d never been this blatant or intense with his ogling before and it made my flesh crawl and raised the soft hairs on the back of my neck.

“Martin – coffee?” I snapped at him as I waved a coffee cup in front of his eyes. He never even blinked.

“Fuck,” I heard him whisper softly.

“Martin? Are you all right?” I asked as he continued to stare at my body. I followed his bloodshot eyes as they dropped lower to feast on my stocking clad legs. The alarm bells were not ringing in my head yet but I was definitely uneasy. Normally by now Martin would have scurried off to his office.

“You’ve no idea have you Kym?” he finally hissed in a voice so soft I barely heard him.

“No idea what?” I queried, genuinely wondering what he was talking about.

“You. You’re just a fucking prick tease aren’t you?” he spat out.

“I beg your pardon,” I protested, “I most certainly …”

“Yes you are, look at you today,” he hissed, interrupting me, “when you sat down at your desk this morning your skirt rode up your thighs so high that I could see your stocking tops. And your shoes … for god’s sake … you’re a strumpet that’s what you are Kym … a fucking strumpet and a prick tease!” He paused for breath and I saw him swallow hard and lick his lips.

I had no idea what a strumpet was but stupidly i looked down at my clothes. I couldn’t see anything wrong with the way I was dressed. My black pinstripe pencil skirt was short, as per usual but I hadn’t realised that my stocking tops were on display. And I had no idea what his problem was with my shoes They were just a simple black open toed court shoe with a 4″ heel.

“You know what Kym … you’re a bitch. You wear these tight fitting tops, showing us your big titties, trying to turn us men on. Why is that eh? Why do you feel the need to show me your tits if I can’t get to feel them?”

I frowned, my face a picture of incredulity at what he was saying.

“I want to feel them Kym …” He stepped towards me, his sudden movement catching me by surprise. I gasped as he closed an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. I turned and pulled my head away from him avoiding his lips as I squirmed in his grasp.

“GET OFF ME,” I said loudly as he managed to fasten his right hand onto my left breast. He groped and squeezed it hard making me wince with pain. I screamed. And then I screamed again and carried on screaming.

For me time slowed right down whilst everything around me exploded in a frenzy. People came running into the kitchen, I felt Martin being pulled away from me, everyone seemed to be shouting at once. And then it was over.

* * * * *

If I’d worked for a big company this situation would have been dealt with by their HR department but as a small business we didn’t have that facility. As it was, after I’d been calmed down by Mavis and Chantelle I was summoned to Mr Wynne’s office.

I was extremely nervous and terrified that I was going to lose my job. Martin had always bragged about how indispensable he was to the business and there was no doubt in my mind that Mr Wynne would take his side of things when he explained what had happened in the kitchen.

So it was a bit of a shock when Mr Wynne pulled up a chair to sit next to me rather than sit behind his desk.

“Are you alright now Kym?” he said kindly.

“Yes, I think so,” I replied shakily.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I had no idea that Martin was any kind of a threat to you … or indeed to anyone else here,” he said. “It must have been quite scary,” he added as he leaned forward and took my hand in his.

His hands were large and warm. I admit I was shocked. Mr Wynne had never touched me before, not even a handshake when I started with the firm. But for some reason I drew comfort from the fact he was so protective of me. I felt a warm fuzzy feeling engulf my whole body and to my horror realised that I could feel my nipples swelling and pushing out against my bra. And if I could feel them I knew with absolute certainty that they could be seen through my thin, skin tight top. They get really big when they get engorged.

I looked shyly up into Mr Wynne’s face expecting to see him staring at my breasts. He wasn’t … but he had been. To hide his embarrassment he coughed to clear his throat.

“Kym, I know this may be painful for you but could you tell me exactly what happened in the kitchen this morning when Martin came in.”

“I … erm … well … I was in the kitchen making coffee for everyone when Martin walked in. He just stared at me … well my boobs mainly. It was quite intimidating.” I stopped talking and looked up into Mr Wynne’s face.

“And then what happened?” he asked kindly.

“He grabbed me around my waist and pulled me towards him. He tried to kiss me but I turned my head away and that’s when he groped my breast. He was quite forceful and it hurt.” I paused as I began to tear up again. I wiped away a tear with the back of my hand and continued.

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