Author’s Note
Risk Versus Reward is a prequel to Girl Friday and focuses on the story of Karin, the ‘H.R. Lady’ who provided Charlotte’s rather unique interview experience when she was hired. You do not need to read Girl Friday to understand what’s going on in Risk Versus Reward. But if you enjoy this story, Girl Friday should most definitely be on your reading list.
In the previous installment of Karin’s continuing saga we got to see the softer side of everyone’s favorite P.E. teacher, Mistress Betty Nguyen. The crop wielding, squat thrust loving woman who paid top dollar at auction for Desi and Karin seemed intent on feeding them as much as fucking them, and in the end included Karin in her plans for opening a new version of The Academy.
But every great weekend comes around to Monday morning eventually. What will Karin’s Monday be like. Keep reading to find out.
I hope you enjoy Karin’s continuing story.
WaxPhilosophic
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Chapter 19: The Counter-Offer
When we arrived back at The Academy early Monday morning, I was ready for a nap. Barring that I would have settled for one of Miss Smith’s flowy body-painting sessions or even one of Miss Chowdhury’s human appetizer tray demonstrations, as long as I got to be the one lying down and not the one doing the work of blending up the hummus.
To say that I was worn out after our little weekend that consisted of all fucking for the rest of the day would have been the understatement of the century. I honestly don’t know how Desi was able to function this morning let alone stand up, but we hadn’t taken but two steps inside the building when she was already checking out one of the flat-panel monitors, pouring over the day’s class offerings.
Personally, I found myself still wishing for the snug comfort of that big king-sized bed the three of us shared, because when Mistress Nguyen wasn’t bound and determined to wring every last cent of what she spent at the auction out of Desi and me, it was actually a rather pleasant place to be. The farmhouse bedroom was cozy and the whole place smelled like Betty’s home cooking. And it really wasn’t too bad when the mistress was trying to collect her expenditures from our hides either, just sweatier and bouncier and maybe a little stingier from time to time. I smiled at the memory.
“Karin, you need to check this out.”
“Nothing too stressful, OK Des? Please? No calisthenics, no Contemporary American Literature, and certainly nothing involving a squash court. Maybe see if the lab-coat girls need guinea pigs for their massage class. I could totally go for that right now.”
“You need to look at this.”
“Desi can’t you see that I’m …” I turned to look at the monitor Desi had her gaze fixed to and the words stopped. My jaw was still moving, but I probably looked more like a fish out of water — a minnow that some cruel kid had plucked from the stream and left to writhe around on land while he stood over it, fascinated by its desperate movements, but not feeling an ounce of empathy for the poor creature as it lay dying. That’s the kind of dread that filled me as I looked at the monitor — the monitor with my picture on it and the words, ‘Lost Kitten. If found, please bring to headmistress’s office right away.’
I knew exactly who was behind this, and it wasn’t Headmistress Hendricks. She was just a pawn in the whole scheme the way I figured it. No, the person behind this was none other than Doctor Spiced Mocha Latte Tina Moreau herself. She may have been outbid at the auction and lost me for the weekend, but she was not the kind of person to go skulking back to her lair to lick her wounds. That was not her style at all. She would be out on the offensive and this trick with my picture on the monitors all over school was just the beginning.
For a brief moment I felt rather flattered to think of these two powerful women competing over me, Doctor Moreau and Mistress Nguyen vying to win my affections, my soul. And if it came to blows my money was on Betty Nguyen all the way, but I knew it wasn’t going to be that kind of a fight. Moreau would use her position at the school to make sure she got exactly what she wanted and nobody was going to stand in her way. She had already proved that with her little stunt of demanding my presence in the headmistress’s office, and I knew it wouldn’t stop there. If for one minute Doctor Moreau suspected that I had fallen for the charms of a certain P.E. teacher, I had no doubt that she would have Betty fired on the spot. For Desi’s sake and for Betty’s, I didn’t want to see that happen.
“You going?” Desi’s mouth was twisted up in a concerned grimace.
“Don’t think I have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. You could always turn around and walk out the door.”
“And go where, exactly Des? Back home? No thanks.”
Desi shrugged, but said nothing further. We both knew what I had to do. But I wasn’t going to march so willingly to bursa escort bayan the gallows, and I decided to stop off for a yogurt first. I was hoping they still had key lime pie flavor, it was so good it was almost like having dessert for breakfast, and I really needed the guilty pleasure of a little comfort food right now.
* * *
When I got to Headmistress Hendricks’ office she was the only one there, standing straight and proper beside her desk and rocking that pencil skirt like only she can. That surprised me a little as I expected to see Moreau there wearing a hole in the rug as she paced back and forth impatiently awaiting my arrival. So when I was greeted with a cheery ‘Hello Dear’ in that lovely English-accented voice of hers, I quickly forgot about my trepidation and began to think about stockings instead — specifically the sexy seamed stockings that rose from Miss Hendricks’ shiny black high heels, clinging nicely to her exquisitely toned calves before disappearing under the hem of her skin-tight skirt.
“Hello Miss Hendricks,” I said. “You were looking for me?”
“Um, yes Karin.” She cleared her throat. “Well it wasn’t me specifically, dear.”
“I’m in trouble aren’t I?” Might as well get it out in the open. I knew what was going on here, even the headmistress seemed to be intent on avoiding the obvious truth this morning.
“I really can’t say dear, I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” I said. “I get myself into these things. It’s my risk-taking behavior catching up with me.”
We stood there staring at each other for a minute, neither one of us speaking, probably neither one of us knowing exactly what to say. I fully expected Doctor Moreau to burst through the door at any minute to inform me that I had exactly two choices — one, I could come back to her and be her perfect submissive, or two, I could pack my meager belongings and hit the bricks as it were. There was no way in hell I was going back to her crazy laboratory, so I figured this was probably my last day here at The Academy. And that prompted me to attempt something I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing in a million years. I mean I’ve dreamed about it, but I’ve always lacked the courage act on the desire until now.
“Miss Hendricks,” I said, “I think you have the most beautiful legs I’ve ever come across in all my years on this earth.” A little over the top sure, but she did have some damn fine legs.
I knelt on the floor in front of her and looked up with a seductive look that I’ve been practicing practically every night that I work at the club. Desi calls it my fuck me eyes. I looked up at Miss Hendricks with my best fuck me eyes and started crawling slowly toward her.
“Karin,” she gasped, but otherwise made no attempt to move away.
“Miss Hendricks, I have this fantasy. I’ve had it since the first time I saw you, when you were giving toasts in the refectory.” I was inches from those stockings now and I could smell the peculiar scent of silk, almost taste it in the air. I smelled a little something else too. It smelled like sex, and it wasn’t just coming from me. My confidence was boosted by the thought of Miss Hendricks getting turned on by my advances. Score one for Karin.
“Miss Hendricks,” I said. “May I lick your stockings? I know it sounds crazy, but the seam up the back just drives me slightly wild and well, I’ve always wanted to.”
Miss Hendricks said nothing in response, but she did smile and slip out of her heels. I watched her pull out the desk chair in order to rest one foot on it before she waggled her finger at me in a come hither motion.
I shivered at the sight of her inviting me over, and felt my moisture growing as I got down and crawled over to meet her. I wrapped my hands gently around her calf, the one that was encased in that beautiful stocking and raised up on display for me with her foot resting on the chair. Once I had her in my grasp I set my sights on that seam and pushed my tongue out as far as it would go. It was rougher than I expected and really didn’t taste like much of anything exciting, but the feeling of of the shuddering woman underneath it was more than enough to make it worth my while.
“Oh Karin,” she said, “I think perhaps I should have bid a little higher at the auction.”
“Yes, Miss. I think I would have enjoyed that.” I honestly didn’t know what it would have been like to spend the weekend with Miss Hendricks, but I think we both got off on the stocking licking thing and as the old song goes — that’s the one thing we’ve got.
I ran my hands upward to Miss Hendricks’ knee and finally her firm thigh while following along with my tongue moments later. We made a pretty good team too, because the higher I got the more she straightened her leg to give me unimpeded access. She was starting to look like a ballet dancer standing at the rail stretching out before a performance, except my ballet dancer Miss Hendricks was wearing a pencil skirt instead of a tutu and quite obviously bursa anal yapan escort no underwear. I got a pretty good peak at her swollen and glistening folds as she stretched the fabric of that poor skirt to the limits of its integrity and it made me smile.
I lovingly hugged her thigh, running my tongue higher up that seam and enjoying the heavy scent of Headmistress Hendricks’ growing lust. She was beginning to moan a bit now too, nothing at all like the sounds coming from Betty Nguyen’s farmhouse bedroom this past weekend, but it was enough to let me know that she approved of my technique. And that caused a little moan of my own to cross my lips.
With my confidence bolstered I let my hands wander upward until I felt a bit of warm wetness under my fingertips. I may be about to get bounced out of The Academy to land flat on my ass, but I was sure as hell going to fingerbang the headmistress and slobber all over her sexy stockings before they sent me shuffling on down the road.
“Karin, I …”
Save it Miss Hendricks, I thought to myself, we both want this.
I slid two of my fingers into that glorious warm and slippery tunnel and felt her squeeze against me. I knew Miss Hendricks was never going to be touring with the Karin and Desi Fists of Fury Show, she was tight as hell with just two fingers inside her and I couldn’t imagine her taking any more than three. That’s OK though, I just wanted to add the experience to my fond memories of The Academy — and maybe get a little taste. Yes, I definitely wanted to taste this woman whose leg I was clinging to and whose stockings I was so obsessed with.
“A-hem,” I heard as I felt Miss Hendricks clench.
I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks and was almost knocked to the floor as Miss Hendricks pulled her leg back suddenly and stood bolt upright, running her hands over her skirt to straighten it out. Shit! I recognized that voice, and it wasn’t the headmistress. Doctor Moreau had managed to sneak in and surprise the both of us.
“Kitten, why don’t you come on out of there?” Moreau said.
“Yes, Miss.”
I guess it was too much to hope for that she would somehow miraculously overlook the fact that I was curled up on the floor behind the desk with the taste of silk still on my tongue and two fingers worth of Miss Hendricks left unsavored. Fuck it. I popped those two fingers in my mouth and slurped off every drop of the headmistress’s tangy sticky nectar before I stood up. It was worth it, one last hurrah before I get tossed out on my ass.
“Miss Hendricks, will you excuse us please?”
“Certainly.” Headmistress Hendricks shot me one last glance with a strange grimace on her face. “I’ll be just outside the door if you should need me Karin.”
“Yes Miss,” I managed. Oh boy, why did she think I was going to need her? Did she know something I didn’t? Would she come to my rescue if I did? Was my stocking licking that good?
My mind whirled with possibilities as I watched the switch of her hips under that slightly rumpled skirt that topped off those sexy seamed stockings as she headed for the door. And with a soft click of the latch I was left alone with Doctor Tina Moreau. I felt a little shiver run the length of me.
“Did you enjoy your weekend, Kitten?” Doctor Moreau was apparently completely unconcerned that only moments ago I was determined to lick the stockings right off the headmistress’s legs.
She had come up behind me and had placed her hands so she was cupping my breasts, holding them, weighing them, while she occasionally reached up to pinch my nipples. Just because she could I suppose, but I felt them getting hard in spite of my best efforts to ignore what she was doing to me. In no way did I want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her touches could still turn me on. I had made up my mind about who I wanted, and the mad doctor was no longer in the running.
But she still knew how to touch me though — I had to admit that — we had spent enough time together, some in her lab and some not, that she was practically the world’s foremost authority on how to turn me on. And the way she rolled my nipples so gently in her fingers while she stood close enough behind me that I could count the buttons on her suit coat and measure the pace of her breathing by her hot breath tickling my neck at every exhale — I felt my willpower turning to jelly.
“It …” I shuddered. “It was OK.”
“Just OK, Kitten?” She was tugging at my nipples now with both hands, pulling and stretching. So far it was a gentle torment, but torment nonetheless and I shivered slightly. “I wonder what your girlfriend Desi would say about your weekend. It would be such a shame if she found it to be just OK as well, don’t you think? Particularly after all the money that was laid out for the pair of you.”
“Um, yes Miss.” I was starting to get a little concerned now, not by what she was saying, but because Doctor bursa rus escort Moreau had stopped touching me. I don’t know where her hands went, but whenever this happened in her laboratory her hands either went into the cutout pockets of that lab coat so she could touch herself while she watched me writhe in pain, or they came back with some new and more vicious instrument of torment designed to help me help me transcend in what she referred to as my journey to perfect submission.
For Doctor Moreau it was always about a journey or a quest of some such shit, like she thought she was actually helping me find a higher purpose by subjecting me to her freakish experiments.
She wasn’t wearing the lab coat today, not here in the headmistress’s office, so unless she had cut the pockets out of every article of clothing she owned I assumed her hands would be back with some device designed to inflict the additional torment she was always saying I needed. And the hell of it was, I felt myself getting wet just thinking about what she had planned for me, that’s how well she had me conditioned. When I heard the faint tinkling sound, I felt a tiny rivulet of my own moisture coursing over the inner thigh of my right leg. I recognized the sound of my own little bells, the ones that I used to clamp onto my nipples at the club, and the Pavlov’s reaction they caused when I thought about Doctor Moreau pocketing them on that fateful night in the club — the night that she used me and left me in a sobbing heap.
I knew the bells would not be the worst of torments that she could bring to bear, but I was no longer interested in her games, her quest to create the perfect submissive. After spending the weekend with Desi and Betty in that cozy farmhouse, I tasted and understood the true joys of submission. I knew it was not found in my ability to endure pain and to find pleasure in overcoming the challenge of that pain, though that was something I was able to do and had done willingly while Betty’s crop left its stinging marks my backside.
No, the true joy was knowing that the woman employing the crop understood me and cared for me. Mistress Nguyen appreciated that I wasn’t the kind of girl who got off on plain old sex, that I craved intensity, and she found her joy in giving me what I needed. She wasn’t interested in getting me to transcend or any of that other happy horseshit, she was contented with making me come like a fucking rocket.
I sucked a quick breath as I felt cold metal pressing against the skin around my left nipple and shivered long after the sensation of chill had passed. Doctor Moreau was squeezing one of the bell clamps and dragging its open jaws slowly over my tender flesh.
“Oh Kitten,” she said as she continued dragging and rotating those open metal jaws. “You know we’re made for each other. Just feel how your body reacts to my touch.”
She was right of course. My nipples were painfully erect and the rivulet of pre-orgasmic juices was flowing faster over the inside of my thigh, all from the idea that she could relax her fingers at any moment and let loose a torrent of intense agony upon my poor tit. The bite of the clamp would level out eventually into a warm dull ache, but that initial pinch would be excruciating and I knew that she would be at the height of her own sadistic pleasure while she watched the grimace crossing my lips.
But I also knew that as I struggled to bear it without crying out, my own body would betray me and that I would find pleasure in it as well. Intense masochistic pleasure. I was reminded of that fact the instant I felt the clamp beginning to close on my tender flesh, the exact same instant as I felt Doctor Moreau’s hot breath fogging the back of my neck while she whispered her perverse words of encouragement — words like overcome, and transcend. I hated those words and the woman who uttered them, and yet there I stood powerless to move as the sharp pinch traveled along my frayed nerves to lodge itself in my brain — all because my own body betrayed me.
In spite of all the disdain I held for this woman in my conscious mind, the hindbrain — the part that reacts without thinking — opened up the floodgates and sent a surge of endorphins rushing through the blood vessels it had commanded to dilate throughout my body. So as I stood there hating Doctor Moreau and all her cruelty, my body enjoyed the kind of rush that junkies would kill for.
I had transcended. And I transcended again as the second clamp bit down on the right side. I never meant for it to happen, it just did. That’s how I was wired.
I had it set firm in my mind that I was going to stand my ground, feet firmly planted on my side of an imaginary line, on the side that offered the opportunities for giving foot massages in the bathtub and being lavished with the promise of delicious home cooked noodles and tea, and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of really good hard fucking — fucking without all the weird scientific theory and the nineteen-fifties housewife bullshit that came with it. All I had to do was hold out until graduation and Desi and Betty and I would be together, and happy. But as it was, I stood there toeing that line, dangerously close to stepping over because at this very moment I was most definitely not in my right mind, I was in a fog.