Naughty Nessie

Why?

Vanessa didn't understand. She didn't understand why...

Why she was bent over her own desk, again. Why she was patting and rubbing her sore bottom.

Why she was stalling, when she needed to work. Wanted to work. Really, truly wanted to -

Why she was torturing herself, when she couldn't even masturbate. Couldn't satisfy or release.

Even why or how the scent of Cheryl lingered, cut through her own far more basal fragrance. Why, when she closed her eyes, images of the younger white woman - her open blouse, her bra, her eyes, her hair... her legs... her plain, beautifully practical streamlined skirt... why they burned behind Vanessa's eyelids, begged her to close her eyes for more. To close her eyes and pat and rub her abused brown butt to rekindle them, to make the thoughts and images...

Why she couldn't get the shame, the twisted envy and jealousy and childish need for approval out of her head. Somehow didn't... on some level, didn't want to. Those pats to her head - those compressions of her fluffy ball of hair... Vanessa patted her ass and bit her lip, imagining it was the other woman.

Why now, after knowing Cheryl so long, never before having had these thoughts about her... why, now, just the thought of glimpsing her thighs again, like she had two days previous made Vanessa gasp and twist on her desk...

Glimpsing her secretary's slender white thighs... then higher. Up her legs, to where they joined together. How tantalizingly, frustratingly, where her legs met - what was there was secreted away with a special, flimsy covering. A covering made deliberately sexy, where its only function was to conceal her. Concealing Cheryl's... Miss Cheryl's....

It was covered by p-panties. Like those she had pulled off the white woman's slim hips before. Panties - that accessory and protection and... and necessity, no longer allowed to Vanessa. But Cheryl would have panties. She would be covered. They might be white again, with lace trim, like before. Like the bra that Vanessa had glimpsed. But they might be different. They were a mystery. A cotton or silky or satin... a white or red or pink or black or mauve m-mystery, covering up a-another mystery beneath that... that...

"Ah... ah..." Vanessa moaned, bucked, f-fucking squeezed her thighs, getting... getting so... just from r-rubbing and spreading and patting her own round asscheeks.

Whap!

The black businesswoman spanked her tenderized tushy, and jerked. Her elbow hit her mouse.

Her sleeping computer monitor flickered on.

F-fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shitshitshit.

What was she doing?

Bent over, squished bust heaving, Vanessa...

Vanessa angrily, angry with herself, stood, took her chair in one hand to scoot it underneath her, and plopped down at her desk.

Unsurprisingly, messages from Brand were waiting.

Her hands clasped together, each one wringing the other. Vanessa hesitated - glancing at the camera nervously. She had wasted enough... she needed to get to her emails. To Cheryl's assignment.

She - she shouldn't have been feeling her butt. However sore it was. However it tingled when she touched it. However much she had gotten exactly what -

Enough. Enough, Nigg- N- Nessie. Enough.

She had a deadline. Cheryl's work -

No. Her. Vanessa. It was her work.

Well, Cheryl had done it. But, it was supposed to be her work. It had come across her desk.

Everything was so... Vanessa was so confused. Overwhelmed, by nothing. By her own thoughts and doubts and broken feelings. That- that didn't matter. She had her assignment.

Given to her. By her secretary. Miss Cheryl. Miss Thomas.

Another message from Brand popped up, right in front of her eyes. Vanessa hesitated.

It was looking at her. Waiting for her to click it.

He was looking at her. Maybe waiting for a response.

Vanessa squeezed her thighs together, and wiggled her bottom in her swivel chair. She couldn't ignore Brand. Even the thought made her jumpy, dried her mouth. Made her eyes flick to the camera.

There were plenty of messages. Surely commenting on what... what had happened. She couldn't go through all that again. Not now. But... maybe she could, she should at least look at the latest one.

Vanessa opened it, scrolling over the hidden words one at a time.

10:51am Finally stopped touching your bottom long enough to sit down, huh Nessie?

It was exactly what she should have expected. It... she could handle that kind of -

10:52am Look at the camera. I know Uncle Carter gave you a nice talk this morning about being respectful. You did a good job before, I liked that. You were asked a question.

Vanessa pursed her lips. This was a mistake. He was in, now. In her head. She had started and now...

She looked up, and breathed out a little, "Yes, Daddy."

Vanessa, after a moment to reset, to recover, logged onto her e-mail for the first time in days. There was a lot there. Some things Brand had clearly looked at. Mostly, though, it was untouched. Cheryl had sent her a... a lot. A lot of polite, professional notes and questions that had been ignored. Including her latest one.

Vanessa opened it, started reading the outline of her assignment just in time to get another...

Click

10:58am Your face was much more interesting when you were being spanked by your secretary. Let's not make your very important assignment as boring as it sounded. Let's see those tits while you work.

U-uggh. Vanessa glanced nervously at the unlocked door. She glanced at the monitor. Just... get it over with. Get back to work. Or... get... get started working, rather. Vanessa gave Brand's latest timestamp a guilty look.

The 41 year old woman stretched her spandex top over her shoulders, over her bust. All-too-conscious of the glass eye on her she reached behind, fiddling with the clasp at her back before freeing her breasts from the low cut demi bra, placing it in her desk. One more covering gone, one more protection and support discarded. Vanessa covered her shoulders back up. Her neckline stayed low, below her now-freed boobs. Vanessa had shown off her tits plenty recently, but it felt different - awkward, slutty, and... strange, to feel them loose in her office, alone with the camera. Feeling fresh, cool air underneath, over her poor nipples that had chaffed painfully against the tightly-pulled fabric of her bra.

11:00am Your conversation was about being respectful, and also appreciative. Very appreciative. Now don't your big boobs feel better? I bet it feels good. They looked constricted, the way they were popping out

Fuck. Vanessa paused and looked at the camera and, maybe, with Brand looking, squeezed. Squeezed her shoulders together to- to reduce any sag, and give some cleavage to the camera.

"Yes, Daddy. Thank you for," For...? "F-for letting me free my big titties." God help her, she shook her chest a bit. Unprompted. Shame shot through Vanessa's heart like a bullet, even as her jugs jiggled excitedly.

Even worse, because... "You were right, Daddy, thank you. They feel much better." They did, physically, feel considerably cooler, less... Vanessa ran the fingers of one hand over the soft, firm orbs hanging off her, feeling their weight, her tender nipples, her...

Her work was waiting. Vanessa dropped her hand in disgust. Her work was right on the monitor, and she was taking extra time to shake and fondle her fat nigger tits for the camera. Contemplating about how good it felt to take them out. She was such... she was just a- a bimbo. A big-titted office bimbo.

Bimbo or no, she had a job. She scanned Cheryl's e-mail, thankfully uninterrupted by Brand. She ignored... mostly ignored the sway of her breasts when she rolled in her chair, pulled up her office programs. Copied and pasted. Looked at Cheryl's instructions again. And started reading.

Reading, thinking about Cheryl writing... all this? It was a lot. It was pretty good. She must have gone back through previous reports, looked at all the pieces. Been diligent and focused. Really...

Vanessa, finally settled, finally focused, out of habit almost dialed Cheryl for some coffee. Her hand hovered, barely having stopped. She stared at her phone. That... that was in the past.

She couldn't. Not ever again. The surprisingly painful thought rolled through her mind.

She had been spanked by Cheryl. Rightfully so. She... she couldn't ever, ever imagine being in a place, regaining the authority, to send Cheryl for coffee. She would have to get her own.

Somehow, that thought left Vanessa broken. Staring.

Another thought. Slow, like the last. But, maybe she should be getting - get Cheryl's coffee. Miss Thomas'.

That seemed, somehow, much more reasonable.

What... what was going to happen to -

A message startled her. Hand floating forward, she clicked it on instinct.

11:22am Do you always play with your nipples while you work?

She was playing with her nipples?! Vanessa looked down and saw her fingers feeling. Circling. T-tugging. Twisting. It-it hurt! She willed her hand... what the hell was she doing? And that time stamp!

Vanessa whimpered, eyes pleading, feeling so... "No, Daddy. I'm not used to working with... My b-b-boobies are out." She blurted, as if that explained her self-stimulating her breasts and aggravating her tender nipples, "I don't have my coffee," She continued, her voice raising, blurting more. Blurting, "It's ha-aaard," she whined.

She could see, hear herself doing it. But Vanessa couldn't stop her stupid mouth from - "Ah!" The topless negress squealed. And looked down, mouth open. Fuck! Her hand! Again, h-her nipple!

11:24am LOL!

Vanessa clamped her free hand, her not-mouse-hand between her thighs. Just... just to keep it from touching her chest or p-pinching her nipples again. Vanessa hadn't previously seen Brand use any kind of chat abbreviations. She could only imagine he really, really was laughing. Out loud. At her.

11:25am That was precious. Better get used to it, sweetie. At this rate most of your work is going to be topless.

F-fuck. Reading that, th-the hand between her thighs started touching, grinding the edge of her thumb into her bare, wet... God dammit! Vanessa let out a little sob, and lifted and pinned her own hand, with her knee, to the hard underside of her desk.

It was like something out of a horror movie. The hand that wouldn't stop touching. She laughed for a moment, and sobbed again. It wasn't a horror movie. It was her own stupid hand. Her own disgusting impulses to touch herself. It...

She was out of control. Literally out of control.

She looked at Cheryl's report. She looked at the time.

She was failing. Miserably. Vanessa slowly moved her knee, released her hand, and looked at it a moment. Turned it, almost suspiciously. It was hers. She was the one moving it.

She was the one, unconsciously or not, tweaking her own nipple. Sliding her hand between her thighs.

It was her.

After everything she was underperforming at a task that should be beneath her. Worse than underperforming. She hadn't even truly started.

She would never finish everything. But she... she started.

Maybe she could get enough together to pass off that she did her work.

What a stupid, irresponsible thought.

It wouldn't go away. Vanessa scrambled, working, writing in what she could, but it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot, not at her current, distracted pace, and...

After... if she did that, if she did that, she could look at it more, later, after Cheryl turned it in. She could write a short e-mail, go over Cheryl's head, saying it was a mix up. That an early draft got in, and send in the revised, final draft.

It-it wouldn't really even be going over Cheryl's head. Not really. How could it be? Vanessa was the girl's boss. It was her right. It was...

It was all Vanessa had. She had been given one silly assignment, far beneath her, and would barely have time to get the table of contents and a small portion of the references in order. She couldn't bear the thought of Cheryl, of anyone, knowing she had failed so badly, right away. The ebony executive finished what she could, and with one eye painfully closed... she sent it over.

She might have to lie. To her secretary, in order to pull it off. But she couldn't reveal her incompetence. Vanessa took a moment. All she had was a moment, to try and center herself.

Vanessa breathed, and nodded, and stood up, and felt her tits flop.

Oh.

Idiot. "I'm putting my bra and top back on." Vanessa said to her empty office. To the motionless camera. She... for good measure...

"D-Daddy," She added.

No response. As if she couldn't have felt more stupid about announcing her intent to dress herself. Vanessa put her bra on, started pulling up her top. Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe -

He was.

Click

12:04pm Make sure you have it just like it was when I dressed you, Nessie.

Vanessa bit her lip. Brand could only mean one thing. She pulled down the neckline of her stretchy little number, just a hair, so the edges of her dark, bumpy aureolas were showing.

"Okay," She whispered, half to Brand, half to herself. She pulled her hem down, as low as it would go, and firmed her ankles so she could walk tall on her pump heels to her door.

Vanessa turned the handle, and slowly...

Heard laughter, through the tiny crack she had made in the door frame. Female laughter. Cheryl's - genuine and sweet, and... shit. A different voice laughing. Higher pitched, louder, more lengthy, and instantly recognizable. Cheryl's gal pal, her -

"Vanessa?" Cheryl's voice. Then sudden, heavy silence. It was too late. She had been seen. Vanessa's meager scraps of confidence flitted away. Blushing before she even began, Vanessa poked her head out the door, trying to keep her scantily clothed body in as long as possible. She... maybe she could just let Cheryl know she was done from there. Ignore the dark-haired girl that was by her side. Her gossipy little friend, Jenny, queen of the office supplies.

Head out, body in, Vanessa looked into Cheryl's half-cubicle outside her door and tried out a smile. Cheryl's calm, serious expression didn't change, but Jenny's cute, round face took on a look like the battered black woman had just said something vulgar.

Vanessa stopped smiling, and wet her throat. "I-I'm done, Miss... Ch-Cheryl. Miss Thomas." Both women looked at each other. "Cheryl." Both women looked at Vanessa.

"Miss Thomas," Vanessa concluded, in a very small voice.

"I saw, Vanessa," Cheryl tapped something on her laptop. "Come here, please," Her voice was slow, measured, and not unkind.

Her head was telling Vanessa to retreat. Social pressure, and her feet, wouldn't let her. Vanessa opened her door just enough to squeeze awkwardly out and, in the clean hallway air, got a whiff of herself.

Shit! She should have wiped up again. After finally working she had stopped gushing long enough that her thighs were no longer slick, they hadn't reminded her of everything dried there from her spanking and s-self stimulation. Nipple pinching. Bottom rubbing. And in her enclosed workspace she had gotten used to the... the other effect. The musk.

Cheryl was buttoned back up to a sensible amount of skin, but Jennifer was showing off even more than she usually did. Vanessa saw... a lot. She saw, compared, looking at the two women... unlike Cheryl's slim, elegant frame, Jenny was shorter, with a full, round, upright butt and full, round, upright breasts that... that...

Leaned over. A single, red-nailed finger parted the young woman's neckline. As if Vanessa couldn't see - as if she wasn't already looking. And Jenny, fuck - she smiled at Vanessa. A smile reserved for men, accompanied by a wink. Vanessa swallowed. She had to. Her mouth...

Cheryl must have said something to her old college friend, about Vanessa. Of course she did. Together they were thick as thieves, and always had been.

"I'm really happy with you, Vanessa," Cheryl small, tight smile was beautiful.

"I'm really proud of you."

F-

Vanessa flushed, taken aback. Mixed up with pride at Cheryl's words and shame at her own lie and... Jen was still leaning over. Her shirt was wider than ever. The clean, curved line of her white mounds seemed to pull Vanessa's gaze, absurdly rewarding her for a job well done.

Except it wasn't.

Cheryl clicked through a little more.

"Did you finish? Did you do everything I instructed you to do?" She frowned, peering.

Vanessa's bipolar mouth, drooling a moment before, dried up. She couldn't talk. She nodded.

Cheryl didn't see. She was looking at her laptop screen. Looking closely.

"Hmm?" She frowned at something on her computer. Jenny frowned too, at Vanessa, and started closing her top, slowly, bit by bit.

"Are you listening, Vanessa?" Cheryl looked up, catching Vanessa's wayward eyes, "Or peeping?" Cheryl's voice was calm. Clear.

Vanessa opened her mouth in protest. She - it was Jenny! She was teasing, trying to... Cheryl glanced over at her friend, and only saw the other woman standing still, actually covering up a bit, leaning over and shaking her head in mock concern.

"She was peepin' for sure." The petite, busty white girl looked right into Vanessa's eyes, "You're a little peeper, aren't cha'?" Jenny accused in her distinctive, high voice. She smiled viciously. Cheryl... damndamn dammit. Vanessa had always gotten annoyed when Jenny got her claws into her secretary. Always noticed the difference, sometimes for as long as an hour afterwards. Cheryl... clearly had to suppress a smile.

Vanessa almost said that she didn't want to look at Jenny. Or, she... she couldn't stop but... it wasn't like with Cheryl. That Jennifer was making her look, making her... that the girl bothered her, that it was Cheryl, her bra and legs that Vanessa kept thinking about... that...

"I asked you a question, Vanessa," Cheryl said, her attention finally off the computer, her eyes on Vanessa.

God... god dammit. Why was she... Cheryl knew that sh-sh-she was a- "Yes. I'm a p-peeper. I've been... I can't stop... I don't know why I... it's just..." Vanessa squirmed and, fuck, fucking Jenny leaned and her blouse o-opened more, again, and -

Cheryl sighed. "... I meant the question I asked. Whether you did everything I instructed you to do with the report." Jennifer showed remarkable restraint by only letting out a little snicker.

"Oh. I..." She was so distracted. She had a plan. She would have to... "I think so. Y-Yes. I think I got everything done."

Vanessa knew immediately how flimsy her response was. She winced, anticipating... no... fuck. Stupid!

Both women looked right at Vanessa.

"Did you hear that, Cheryl?" Jen's grating voice had an unmistakable tone of accusation. The young woman frowned at Vanessa. The well-endowed young woman started to... to close her top up.

Vanessa's pitching, turning stomach dropped straight down.

Cheryl looked at her friend, then back at Vanessa. "'I think'...?" She asked, her eyes going again to the computer screen, her brow furrowing.

"I..." Vanessa knew, knew that her face was betraying her. Just like her mouth had. Cheryl started looking again, combing through the work. Jen was almost fully covered, depriving her of... shit! What had she been thinking? Vanessa was caught, caught by her own, stupid...

"It might not be... completely... f-finished." The admission squeezed its way out, past Vanessa's lips, word by word.

Cheryl looked up, slowly. Vanessa recalled her smile when she had thought that Vanessa did a good job. It was worse, now. The look Cheryl gave her was completely devastating. Disappointment, like...

"You said you were finished. That's a fib," Jen accused, frowning. "You're a little fibber," Her word choice, even her annoying voice made it...

"Is that true? Did you lie?" Cheryl glanced at her friend, and then back at Nessie, "Did you tell a fib to me, Vanessa? About a report that I was supposed to turn in?"

Vanessa wilted inside. There was no cleavage left. Jenny was all covered up. She was left soaked and stupid and... a mess. Inside. Outside. Messy. Messy Nessie, the fibber nigger.

"Answer Miss Thomas' question!" Jennifer hissed at the older woman, and slapped the desk with her palm. She might have been playing, but Vanessa's heart started. She jumped and-

The beleaguered negress, tears gathering in her eyes, nodded. "Yes, Miss Thomas. I lied. I-I-" Both women looked and looked and... and, "I fibbed. I'm a big, big," Nigger, "F-fibber."

Cheryl closed her laptop. She stood, and leaned forward on her desk. Jenny straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm very disappointed in you, Vanessa." A little whine gathered in the black woman's throat. She nodded, nodded and bobbed her Afro-adorned head, "I've always been there when you needed me. I've been working my ass off. I gave you the simplest assignment I could think of, that needed to get done. That would still actually be useful to me. To you. To your work, Vanessa. And not only did you not do it, you lied to me? I would have sent this!"

Ice could have cracked on Cheryl's tone.

"I-I know. I know! I know that... I'm s-sorry. Yes," Mommy, "Mm-Mm-Mmiss Thomas," Vanessa barely **** the name out. She... she might have died if she had called Cheryl 'Mommy', again, after her scolding, in front of Jennifer.

But she thought it. Felt it, on the tip of her tongue, trying to jump off.

"Bet she'd work harder for peeps," Jennifer muttered. Vanessa whimpered, and shifted her thighs.

Jenny looked at Cheryl.

Cheryl looked at Jenny.

The two women grinned. Together, they burst out laughing.

Like after her spanking, some of the tension lifted from Cheryl. She... Vanessa had become a joke. A sick joke.

"Something must be good for morale around here." Vanessa jumped, and wobbled on her heels, "I think that's only the second time I've heard laughter all day." A male voice. Behind and above Vanessa. A voice that filled her with...

"Oh!" Cheryl stood abruptly, one palm smoothing her hair, "The time! Hi, Mister Barrington -"

"Hiii, Mister Baarrington," Jenny cut in, giggling, her voice even more abrasive and drawn out than usual. Cheryl playfully swatted her friend's shoulder.

Vanessa was astounded. In an instant -

"Brand, this is my friend Jenny..."

She had been forgotten. Or simply ignored. Even by Brand. Ignored, in her tight little dress and -

"Hello, Cheryl's friend Jenny," Brand sent his winning grin Jennifer's way.

"Hi, Cheryl's friend Mister Barrington," Jenny, one hand on Cheryl's desk, miraculously having managed to unleash her cleavage again, flashed the red-painted nails of her other hand in Brand's direction.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes, just a moment. Vanessa?"

Shit! Vanessa jerked her eyes away from Jenny's - "Y-yes, Miss Che- M-Miss Thomas?"

Cheryl paused. She looked Vanessa in the eyes. All the hardness, from before the laughter, was back. "I am still extremely disappointed in you."

The younger woman reached up, grabbing the colored woman's crestfallen face. Gripping it painfully tight in one hand, squeezing the soft skin of Vanessa's cheeks against her teeth. Cheryl's hazel eyes held Vanessa's, held them and stared, bored right through them with the intensity of her gaze.

"I'm not done with you, understand? You're not done. You. Have. Work to do." Vanessa, unable to move her mouth in Cheryl's hand, even if she had been able to speak, squeaked out a sound that might have been an affirmative and nodded her head, painfully grinding her own teeth against the inside of her cheeks.

"No lunch until you're done. Done right this time." She ordered. Ordered her boss like a misbehaving child, and Vanessa... she didn't dream of doing anything but nodding along again, painfully. "No touching," Cheryl roughly lifted Vanessa's hand, the one she had put between her thighs and -

"Nnn..." Vanessa whimpered as Cheryl sniffed, and immediately threw the offensively-scented hand away in disgust.

"And above all, no fibbing. Ever!" The last command was a hiss, accompanied by a swift, little face slap and another squeeze so hard that Vanessa tasted copper. The admonished black woman shut her eyes, groaned, and nodded one last time.

Cheryl let go. She... her tone softened, "Maybe, Vanessa... maybe if you show me that you can be good ... a good little helper we... we can see about..." She pulled a springy strand of Vanessa's hair, letting it go with a bounce. Vanessa... didn't understand. After that painful humiliation... and everyone... for a moment Vanessa's entire universe was in Cheryl's eyes, in her hand, and...

And if she was... good ... ? Vanessa looked for a clue, but Cheryl just grimaced and shook her head. She was done. She turned away.

"Be a good girl, Nessie." Brand gave three condescending little pats to her head, "Don't be naughty. Remember your talk from this morning."

Vanessa swallowed, accepting each pat with a frowning little blink. She had gone from being ignored to...

"Bye, 'Nessie'."

Jenny followed them out with an inappropriate little pat and a, "Mmp!" A p-pinch to the older woman's backside. The young woman's proud bubble butt swayed away, and with a last, parting little cat's grin over her shoulder...

Vanessa was left alone. Jenny was gone. Cheryl and Brand were on their lunch date, no doubt using Vanessa's car.

Leaving her, finally, alone.

Alone.

Vanessa's heart skipped a beat. Ch-Cheryl had told her to work, nothing until then. But if she did work, and get done, they might be gone long enough that she could have time to find something around the office to eat.