"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 well?"

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 so much."

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 can't."

"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 confirming."

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 thought.