“For the purpose of this story, my name is Candy Dream. Obviously
this is not my real name. I cannot tell you my real name. I just cannot!”
Kerry had texted me. She wouldn't be in to the office until the
afternoon. That was fine by me. I could strut in, in full slut mode, tits
bouncing and air whooshing around my naked sex under the skirt, and without
fear of being hauled into her office having to explain myself. I didn't think
my nerves would be able to take that. I was having to put a concerted effort in
as it was and I had the feeling that I was on the last strands of being able to
cope. Now I was living very much hour to hour. Minute to minute. And every
second was counting.
The box, about 30 centimetres square arrived, like Miss Emily said
it would, before 11am. It was 10.43 actually. I was so used to looking at the
clock in that almost manic way and even for just the slightest reason. I didn't
have to sign for the box. It wasn't scanned either, which meant it wasn't
tracked in the modern way. That was something that just struck me. I didn't
think a huge amount of it. The courier looked like a regular courier. It struck
me as odd that I hadn't had to sign for it, or that the guy didn't have one of
those hand held scanning gadgets and yet that just made me shrug to myself. It
didn't dawn on me at the time that if I wanted or needed to track down where
the box had come from I wouldn't be able to. It just didn't enter my mind. I
had more than enough to be contending with. My head was full to bursting and my
nerves were shot. It was all I could do to hold it all together.
I did have the almost overwhelming desire to rip the box open
instead of putting it on the little table in the corner of my office. I didn't
do that of course because I had been told not to. That was something else that
took all of my resolve. Not to go over with a huge pair of scissors and slice
that box open to see what was inside. It wasn't an overly heavy box and nothing
rattled around inside. Other than that there was nothing giving away the
contents. The label was laser printed and nondescript. I don't know why but
that box was as much to blame for massaging my exposed shot nerves as the stuff
tumbling around my psyche was. If anything that box would torture me more for
the rest of the day.
By the time my desk telephone rang and it was Mr Smith, I was
sitting behind my desk with my skirt around my hips. My smooth hairless sex was
pressed to the leather of my fully adjustable office chair. I can't say that
sitting in this way didn't have an effect on me. I'd be lying even to try. I
had been able to just about cope knowing that I was always wet down there these
days. Somehow though, sitting with no panties on and with my sex lips pressed
into the chair, and then sliding around in my own juices like that brought it
home to me. It wasn't just that I was existing in a puddle of my own sexual
juices. With every leg cross, with every movement, even the slightest of
nuanced movements, my sex lips were moving, distorting, bending and slipping about
in my juices and around that leather. My lips were opening and opening my
pinker, even more moist inner flesh to the leather seat. I know the leather was
serving to feed my arousal. I can't say it was easy to exist this day for the
purpose of working. I was having difficulty in concentrating.
"Hello Candy Slut. This is Mr Smith. I trust you are
Hearing his voice my heart missed several beats and my not
inconsiderable chest seemed to tighten up.
"Mr Smith Sir, it’s so good to hear from you. I've missed you
I nibbled my bottom lip as I moved in my chair and as my sexuality
fed little pulses of wet slippery pleasure into my clitoris. I knew what my
voice sounded like. It was my sex doll voice. All dripping and wet. But I
wasn't doing that voice deliberately. It was what was coming out of my mouth.
"Yes, yes Candy, I can understand that. But I have been busy.
Mostly busy on your behalf so we haven't spoken for a few days."
His voice like liquid gold. The same tone. The same volume. Just that
authority and that calmness when my feet were flapping under the surface as I
tried to stay afloat in what had become something of a nightmare.
"I know Mr Smith and I can't thank you enough Sir. I really
"Well we can talk about how you can thank me. And how you can
repay me at some other time Candy. For now, can you confirm that your bare
exposed cunt is in contact with the chair you are sitting on?"
He said the C word! I felt myself gasp in a breath. He said the C
word and there wasn't even a change in his voice as he did it.
"Yes, yes Mr Smith, I can confirm that."
"What are you confirming Candy. Tell me. Tell me what you are
Again no change in his voice. Just expectation and authority.
"I'm sitting with no panties and my exposed c-cunt Sir
pressed to the leather of my seat."
"And are you wet Candy Slut? Is your Cunt slippery and wet?
And is there a smell as well Candy? Can you smell your arousal?"
The thing was that I could smell myself. I knew there must have
been a smell associated with all of that wetness but admitting it I felt was
bringing me down to a different place.
"Yes Sir. Yes I'm wet. My cunt is slippery and it is wet Sir.
And I can smell myself too. Yes Sir there is a smell."
My voice, dripping wet. I made a mental note to just leave my
office door open a little bit, so that the smell of me would escape and
disperse rather than collect in my office and form its own atmosphere. That
would be awful. I had visions of Kerry coming in and taking a step back, her hand
covering her nostrils as my smell hit her senses. God that was an awful