Lucy is Stripped Naked by Blonde Angie From Concierge

Lucy has a new job at the country hotel and is getting to know her co-workers

I’d only just arrived home when Melissa called to let me know I’d got the job. She told me how impressed she and Ned had been with my aptitude, the way I presented myself, my assurance and deportment.

She ended her call by saying, “You’re just the sort of girl the hotel needs. Ned and I are both looking forward to you joining the team, Lucy.”

They wanted me to start the following Monday, but needed me to come in the next day so I could familiarize myself with the hotel’s computer system. Part of my job would be handling bookings.

Melissa said I would have to be measured up for my uniform. I’d seen how the girls at reception were kitted out, and spending my days done up like some trolley-dolly from the 1960s did not appeal. But I knew what I was letting myself in for when I applied for the job. I would just have to get used to it.

I was still wallowing in the afterglow of kissing Ned. He was all I could think about. I wondered what it would be like working alongside this married man, who I was already thinking of as my secret lover.

It’s hard to describe how it made me feel being involved with an older man. The more I thought about it, the more I became unnerved. I reassured myself by remembering how Ned’s lust had been unmistakable when he kissed me.

Perhaps I was wading out of my depth. I thought back to the summer I was body-boarding in Cornwall. I had pushed through the breaking waves and was waiting for a suitable one to catch. But when I turned to face the beach, I saw how far from shore I was. The rip had caught me and was taking me out to sea.

The lifeguard on his jet ski had rescued me that day. But who would be there to save me if being involved with Ned Mills became like swimming with sharks.

My mother kept her photo albums in a drawer in the dining room. Mum was a bit of an amateur photographer, and as they were friends with the Mills, I knew she was bound to have a photo of the couple.

Yep! There he was: the man who had kissed me so passionately only two hours ago — the man who had fucked me so unexpectedly all those months ago. I was drawn to one particular photo of Ned. It was one of him with his arm around a stunning-looking young woman, quite winsome in her own way, who I surmised must be Eve.

She was younger than I had imagined, quite winsome for a woman in her early thirties. Whoever had taken the shot had caught her off-guard, smiling without affectation. I wondered how anyone could look so happy being married to a philandering beast of a man like Ned.

But I was more interested in her husband. I studied every line on his face, the amusement in his eyes, searching for clues in the lines of his features. Anything that might help me understand why I had given myself to him so readily.

He was handsome, yes! And there was an intensity to him even in those most casual of shots. I wondered how things would pan out between us now that I was working for him. Just looking at his photo stirred this awful desire for him in me. I remembered how his thick cock had felt inside me. Now I wanted more.

Would he be introducing me to the world he and Melissa swam in? The one I’d had a glimpse into the night of the auction. I began to wonder what my price would be if ever a decision needed to be made, and what Ned might want me to do to achieve it.

First thing the next day, I spent the best part of an hour with Ned getting to grips with the booking software.

There were two other girls manning the concierge desk, both part-timers due to each having young children. I’d already met Helen when she came over to say hello after my interview. She was a tall, slim, friendly girl who could not do enough to make me feel welcome.

The other receptionist was a young woman named Angie. She was a big-boned blonde, aged about twenty-six.

“Welcome to the harem,” she told me when Ned introduced us.

Ned gave her a filthy look, and Angie shrugged and returned his glare with a look that said, What! What did I say?

And I thought, “You as well?”

Another thing I learned about Ned that day was that he was obsessed with how his staff presented themselves. Official attire was to be worn at all times, to the letter — T’s crossed, and I’s dotted. When he said I had to be measured up for my uniform, I thought, Jeez! This is worse than being at school.

“Take Lucy down to the sewing room and fix her up with her uniform,” he told Angie.

She threw Ned a surly look, before reluctantly easing herself off her stool, coming towards me and holding a tape measure she had pulled from her drawer.

“You won’t need that, Angie. I know what size I am,” I said.

“Ned is a perfectionist,” she said.

Ned looked at me and said, “Be a good girl, Lucy. Let Angie do what needs to be done — then you’ll be free to go home.”

“Come on, love,” Angie said. “He won’t be happy until you’re in uniform.”

She placed her hand on my shoulder and steered me away like a wayward child. Once we were out in the expanse of the lobby, she removed her hand from my shoulder and told me to follow her, before striding away.

Before I knew it, she’d turned a corner and was gone. I had to hurry after her, calling out, “Angie! Please wait!”

I was just in time to see her go through a discreet doorway on the left at the end of the hallway. It led to the top landing of a small staircase that took us down to the hotel’s underbelly.

After more passageways, we arrived at a small, cozy room containing a number of tailor’s dummies half-draped with articles of clothing. There was an ancient black range, tables and two chairs, and an old sofa that looked like it had been there since some king named George had reigned.

Set in the far wall was a door, which Angie led me to. But she did not open it immediately. I wondered why she hesitated, and when I turned to her, I saw how anxious she was.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I hate it down here.”

“It is a bit spooky,” I said.

“They say it’s haunted.”

“Oh, really?” I said. I loved anything to do with the paranormal — was a sucker for those ghost hunt TV shows.

“A seamstress from back in the day. She hanged herself in there,” Angie said, her eyes indicating beyond the door. “A love affair with a married man gone wrong.”

“Should I go first?” I asked.

She nodded. And so I twisted the old-fashioned door knob. The hinges creaked, and then the door swung open as if pushed by unseen hands.

I hesitated. The dark silence beyond the hold really was quite eerie.

Suddenly, Angie gave me a sharp push in the small of my back, which propelled me over the threshold door and into the clutches of the room’s shadows.

I gave a little scream of alarm, and she said, “Don’t be soft, love. Just messing with you. There aren’t any ghosts down here.”

She had given me such a scare. For a moment, I wanted to hit her.

She followed me inside and flicked a light switch that caused a single fluorescent strip to stutter into life and begin to hum. Although quite a large room, it had no windows and was filled with rows and rows of clothing hanging from long, free-standing rails that ate up too much space. It was claustrophobic in there.

“What size did you say you are?” Angie asked as she began to finger the plastic-encased garments on their hangers.

“A UK size 10,” I replied.

“Lucky you,” she said, the snark in her tone undisguised.

She spent a few minutes searching and then said, “Seems we’re out of your size. I’ll have to measure you and then get Ned to put an order in with the suppliers.”

“How long will that take?”

“Don’t fret, love. You’ll get two sets. Both will be with you before you start on Monday.

She came to me, maneuvering me by the shoulders until I stood beneath the strip light. Out came the tape measure, and I wondered if she was lying about there being nothing in my size, that this was just an excuse to manhandle me, to put me in my place.

“Ned insists that our uniforms fit where it matters,” she said, stretching the tape out in front of her.

“I’ve already said: I’m a 10.”

“So you did, love. But now you must be a sweetheart and lift your arms for me.”

The sooner she was done with me, and I with her, the better. So, I raised my arms and allowed her to take my measurements.

When she looped the tape around my chest, she stood much too close, her bulk imposing itself on me. In the warmth of the storeroom, her scent became cloying. Even though her breath was sweetened by gum, it dampened my cheeks as she reached around me, her large breasts momentarily heavy against mine. When she brought the two ends of the tape around to the front of my chest, her knuckles brushed against my nipples, making them perk beneath my white cotton blouse.

“I think we need to remove your top to get your actual size,” she said.

I thought I’d misheard her, and I asked her, quite incredulously, “You want me to take my top off?”

She did not answer. Her fingers had already begun to undo the top button of my blouse.

Until that moment, I had not once thought of Angie in a sexual way. But now, as each button of my blouse was loosened, a tremendous surge of excitement raced through me, wracking me with ambivalence, my arousal vying with the absurdity of what was happening.

“Won’t Ned wonder where we are?” I asked, hoping it might make her reconsider what she was doing.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He knows exactly where we are. Look up — higher! Do you see?”

Oh, I saw all right: there was a security camera pointing directly down at me. Now I understood why she had been so insistent that I stand in this spot.

Knowing Ned was watching us provided an entirely new context to what was happening. I had never had a sexual encounter with another female, but I had occasionally fantasized about it. I decided this was an opportunity to see what I’d been missing, especially if it would make Ned happy.

When all the buttons of my blouse were undone, she peeled back the cloth from my shoulders, taking the garment from me and placing it gently on one of the clothing racks.

“And this,” she said, leaning around me to undo the hooks from the eyes of my bra.

My nipples were already on high alert from the brushing of her knuckles when she had taken my measurements. Now, released from the confines of my bra, the chill of the room only encouraged them to make a show of themselves, two little buttons of expectation in need of a licking.

“Not just a pretty face, eh, Luce?” Angie said, regarding my breasts, not quite sure what to do with them, now that they were out in the open. She took up the tape, and I wondered if it was some kind of displacement behavior, her not quite knowing how to proceed with the show she was obviously enacting for Ned. The cold of the tape as she drew it around my breasts, centered on my nipples, made me gasp. I exhaled fiercely, and then drew a deep breath.

I blushed, didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know where to look. She laughed and said, “You’re not shy, are you love? You’ve chosen the wrong hotel if you are. Ned expects his girls to be comfortable with each other.”

When I’d imagined what it might be like to go with a girl, Angie was not what I had in mind. Don’t get me wrong, she was pretty enough, her figure erring into voluptuousness, but I found her intimidating. There was too much of her, her breasts a danger to the public.

The audacity of what she was now doing with my nipples excited me so much — in fact, her tongue as it flickered from one to the other excited me almost as much as that time Ned fucked me while I watched Bethany and Zoey doing their little act.

When she had finished teasing my nipples, they were left sodden by her saliva.

“Your hips next, sweetheart,” she told me. “But this will have to go.” She ran her fingertips over each side of my skirt, before stooping and quickly finding the button and zipper at the side.

“I hope you showered this morning,” she said, her oversized doll face looking up at me from where she now knelt.

“I shower every morning.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you hadn’t, love. But that’s reassuring to know.”

She hooked her thumbs into my white cotton panties and eased them down slowly, her palms caressing my legs as she did so.

When my panties were off, she kissed my mons, her teeth turning savage as they sought the pudge beneath. Her fingers parted the lips of my pussy, and then her saying:

“Oh, Luce! How sweet: look how wet you are.”

Then, a sow at her trough, her tongue became the wickedest thing I’d ever known.

I altered my stance as her mouth worked me to completion. I looked up at the camera, wanting Ned to see what a good girl I was.

There came a moment when her tongue was performing just right — not just her tongue, it was how she sucked and blew on my clit before nibbling and then sucking again. I clasped my hands on either side of her head, letting her know this was exactly what I liked. No bloke had ever got it quite so right.

It gave me such a buzz to cum in Ange’s face, while my fingers insinuated themselves into her hair. When I had sensed my completion was near, they began twisting among the strands. I must have been hurting her, but my spite only spurred on the thrashing of her tongue.

It was not merely the work of Angie’s tongue that got me there; it was the gestalt of the moment, the strangeness of being with a woman for the first time, the presence of the camera. And, more essentially, the fact that Ned was watching us.

At that moment, it seemed so apt that I was performing for Ned, just as those two girls had performed for their audience of bidders all those months ago.

When she was done with me, she stood up, wiping my cum from her lips with the back of her hand. She took my face between her hands, looked into my eyes and said, “Quite the little fire-cracker, aren’t we, Luce?”

I said I was sorry if I’d hurt her and that I could not help myself.

“Food for a girl’s soul,” she said.

“Let me make it up to you,” I said, leaning to kiss her.

But she gently eased me away, saying, “Another time, eh, Luce.”

Having her watch me dress made me self-conscious. To distract her, I asked, “What’s Ned like to work for?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said.

“He seems really nice.” She appeared not to be listening, so I said: “I found him very attentive during the interview.”

I had her attention now.

“You’re a pretty girl, and he’s a horny old twat.”

I nearly said that I already knew what Ned was like. But then I remembered what he had said to me, that discretion was the better part of valor, so I held my tongue.

Besides, I was beginning to understand just how much I still had to learn about what happens at this hotel.

Thank you for reading.

Episode 4 can be found here: https://readmedium.com/lucy-receives-a-spanking-from-her-boss-9e77755aadca