Lift

Her eyes opened. She blinked sleep sand away, stretching. She looked over at her clock, noted the time with surprise.  Why had she awakened before her alarm? Her sleep-foggy brain stretched too, searching for the reason, until she remembered today wasn’t just any old day. It was Interview Day! The job she had yearned for, there and ready for the picking. Slipping out of bed with a smile, she all but danced into the kitchen. It seemed that the stars aligned. Her toaster didn’t set her bagel on fire as it had three days ago, her coffee went into her mug without a splotch nor spill. Her cute short skirt, crisp white shirt, and tidy cardigan said ‘comfortable yet stylish’, striking that delicate balance between modern and classic. To top it all off, she caught the early subway, and arrived at her destination with time to spare.

The building towered over the city street. What seemed like miles of gleaming metal and glass caught the morning rays of sunlight. Here at street level the light was more diffused, not dark, but without the sparkle from above. Taking a deep breath, she went through the revolving door.

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

The front desk had slowed her forward progression just a bit. In the interim, a flux of people had begun to fill the lobby, scanning their keycards, passing through the barriers. She took her shiny badge, and swiped it through the entry portal, then followed the tide to the elevator bank.

There was no way she would cram herself into the open-doored lift–there must be 50 people inside already, she thought with an inward shudder. Thankfully, the door to the right opened, and she stepped in. The paper in her hand directed her  to the 89th floor.  She fumbled with the button panel for a moment, then slid to the right, yielding to the woman impatiently stepping in. A steady stream of people filed in after her, with floor after floor being chosen. Thank all the powers that be, she thought, that she’d gotten here early–she was going to lose a lot of time with people stopping on nearly every floor. She was pushed and jockeyed to the far side of the car, nearly stepping on the toes of the young man behind her. A woman with a large orange handbag nearly smashed her in the face as she flung it back over her shoulder. Sliding all the way to the far wall, she avoided purse-lady and tried to not breathe too deeply of the commingled scents of cologne and perfume. The doors closed, nearly, before a hand stopped it, and yet one more person crammed inside. So much for not being overcrowded, she mused, rolling her eyes as everyone in the car shifted to accommodate the newcomer.

She wasn’t claustrophobic, but this was really ridiculous. Still, if she landed this job, this could become her new normal, so best to suck it up or plan on coming to work even earlier. The doors closed with a small whoosh of air which she felt curl around her ankles. She imagined that even that little wave would have had a hell of a time getting through this stuffed box of humans. Now she knew how sardines felt, she smiled to herself, finally really understanding that old saying.

A hand slid over her ass. She couldn’t turn around to see who was feeling her up, and didn’t dare yelp. The hand lifted her skirt as the car stopped on the second floor. Two people got off, but three more got on. She was pressed further back, pressed into the hand that was even now slipping inside her panties. The shudder caught her unaware. The fingers on her hip tightened for a moment, and she understood: be silent. 

A finger slid into her pussy while a foot slipped between her feet and gently pressed. She could see the pointed toe of his shoe, a fancy shoe at that, silver-tipped against the shiny black  The toe lifted, nudged her right arch.She shifted, just a little, widening her stance. The fingers on her hip stroked gently. Approval.

A second finger joined the first, and a rhythmic fucking, along with the gentle shaking of the elevator car made her clamp her back teeth together to stifle the moan. Geeze, this was one of her all-time fantasies. It wasn’t, however, a fantasy, she realized, as a third finger stretched her. It was uncomfortable, but her body, clearly a traitor, adjusted quickly. Moisture slicked from her; she could feel the juiciness as his digits moved inside of her. Occasionally he would stop, wiggle and curl his fingers, scraping that tender spot in just the right way. Small shudders and spurts made her want to purr. She was coming unglued from the sensual assault. The elevator continued its very slow and steady climb upward. He jabbed into her cunt, sometimes softly, sometimes forcefully enough to make her rise to her toes. She pretended to look at the numbers on the keypad, but no one paid her any attention anyway. People left, there would be elbow room for a moment, then on the next floor, more would squeeze in.

He was relentless. She came, came again, and still his fingers worked inside of her. She shook her head, tried to step away, but the car was too crowded, and the fingers dug too deeply inside of her to make him stop. Her pussy was sore, sensitive, and soaked, yet he forced another orgasm upon her. She felt faint, a bit dizzy. The fingers left her pussy then, cupping her vulva, pinching the swollen lips. He found her clit, pinched it hard, inducing another wracking, shuddering orgasm. The scent of hot cunt must be obvious to everyone, she thought.

And then she felt it. He was…pushing something inside of her. Deep inside of her. Her panties were gently smoothed back over her bottom, her skirt tugged down. A handkerchief was placed into her left hand where it rested against the wall to help hold her up.

Blow your nose when the door opens, and look only at the wall.”

His voice was low, pitched only for her ears. She wanted to ask him his name, what he’d shoved inside of her, but the door opened and the crowd shifted. She knew he was gone when the doors closed.

Stunned, she leaned against the wall, holding onto the fine linen kerchief. As the elevator came closer to the end of its upward run, the crowd thinned, until there was just herself and another woman in the car.

“Are you interviewing?” the woman asked, a look of near-panic on her face. “I’m interviewing in a little bit, but gods I’m so  nervous.”

She nodded, but before she could reply, the doors opened. Two young women stood there.

“Emily?” The blonde one asked, looked at them inquiringly. The nervous woman nodded and stepped forward.

“Which makes you Amelia,” said the dark-haired woman. “Please, follow me.”

They moved in the opposite direction from her co-rider. Stopping to wait for a set of thick, opaque glass doors to open, Amelia noted that she still was holding the damp hankie from the man who had fingered her on the way up. She could feel sticky spots from where he must have wiped his fingers. Ohmygawd,  she thought, my pussy juice is all over this! As the doors swung wide she quickly tucked it into her purse. It made her focus on the thing inside of her. She wondered how soon she could ask for a bathroom break to take it out, to see what it was.

“Go on in, Mr. Proctor is expecting you, Amelia,” said the woman, opening yet another set of doors. These were etched with a beautiful swirling design. “I’ll be back to collect you after your interview.”

She swallowed down the quick lump of nerves, nodded to the woman, and stepped into the most opulent view she’d ever seen. He stood there, looking out on the city. She was glad, actually, since it showed he had an awareness of what was out there beyond this ‘ivory tower’ of his.

She paused, uncertain of what to do.

“Amelia, welcome to Proctor and Associates.”

He turned, but his face was lost in shadow, even as the sun lit his silver hair into a fiery nimbus. He walked around the sleek desk, and she saw his hand extend, lifted hers to shake. As if in a dream, she suddenly noted the silver tipped shoes stopping in front of her. Rather than shaking her hand, he held his cupped hand between them and looked down at her with mesmerizing blue eyes. Holding her gaze, he smiled. There was danger in that smile, danger and something that excited her, too. Her nipples hardened as he spoke.

“I’d like to take my ring back now.”

About vanillamom

For 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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10 Responses to Lift

  1. monkey says:

    Do they have any more openings? Where can I send my resume?

  2. olivia says:

    Hmmm, we have an elevator theme going here – i’m loving it!!

  3. Michelle says:

    So. Freaking. Hot.

  4. Isabel says:

    Yay!!! You’re writing stories again *bounces*

  5. I’ve read this twice now. SO. HOT.

    xx Dee

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