Diary of a Special Girl

by Daisy Chained

12th February

I bought James the most amazing present today. Had to nip out at 11.00 to Bond Street to get it.  It wasn’t worth wasting a lunch break on, and James might have got suspicious if I made an excuse to miss our ‘fun time’ together.  Thank god I can come and go as I please at work.  It’s not as if the boss is going to tell me off lol, and nobody else dares. 

They are perfect for him. Ivory cufflinks, with a small, subtle ‘£’ etched into the pearly square.  He’s going to love them. However big and flashy his wife’s present is going to be, there’s no way she’s going to top mine. I noticed him admiring them in the window on one of our extended lunchbreaks when we were walking to the Halcyon.  He loves how thoughtful and observant I am. I’ll let him reward me between the sheets in our favourite room at the H if he’s good. 

Anyway, he’s currently extremely pleased with me.  I subtly reminded him that Valentine’s Day was coming up when I told him I’d ordered his wife a dozen red roses.  He was chuffed.  The gorgeous fool didn’t have a clue that I had chosen the most cliched present in the world.  Men are so obvious.  And I get a perverse pleasure out of ordering his ‘love’ gifts for her.  He’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to remember, so I get brownie points and the reward of his delicious cock to suckle on as I’m kneeling under the big shiny desk in his office.  She just gets some thorny roses as a token of his um, regard. 

Anyway, enough about the Dumpy One, as I like to call her.  It’s possible that she’s not dumpy at all.  Knowing James, she’ll be some trophy wife, beautiful, vapid, an ornament to hang off his arm.  I like to fantasise that she’s let herself go, a foolish frump staying at home to raise his perfect children, spending the day in an ugly grey tracksuit, stuffing her face full of ice cream on the sofa.   But judging by the credit card bills that I creatively expense for him each month, it sounds like she knows how to take good care of herself. 

But let’s not go there.  Whatever she’s like, he still chooses me.  He can’t resist me.  I take care of all of his needs, and I know that despite a wedding band and a legal document, it’s me he couldn’t live without.  It’s me that he drools over, my luscious body wrapped in my tiny skirts and low-cut blouses, as I totter around the office teasing him with a glimpse of my lace stocking tops.  Me that he forgoes important business lunches for so he can lie between my legs and taste my sweet honey.  He’s addicted to our illicit lunches, frantic and thrilling as he pulls the clothes from my body, desperate to paw at my succulent breasts, to push his hard, throbbing cock inside my wet, willing cunt.

I can’t decide whether I prefer fucking him in the office or at the H.  There’s something yummy about the H, with its expensive, plush interior, pretty receptionist smiling in recognition at us, as we check in for our regular fuck sessions.  I do enjoy booking by the hour, and we always have a giggle when I telephone her to make our reservation.  James always thinks it’s spontaneous, like somehow, he’s making the decision.  He has no clue that rooms are not always miraculously available at a hotel like that.  But that’s James for you.  He thinks everything is so easy.  What’s easy is manipulating him.  He’s adorably clueless.

There is something about fucking in the office though.  Knowing everyone outside of the closed blinds knows exactly what we are doing.  The men’s cocks growing hard when they think about his hands travelling over my body, imagining the sound of my moans and whimpers as he presses his huge cock inside me.  And I know the women are glancing surreptitiously, imagining how my body is being ravished, how he is feasting on my gorgeous, ivory flesh. My stiff little nipples pointing to attention as he sucks on them.  So illicit, so wrong, and yet they are all helpless to complain.  Jealous fools, pathetic in their envy and feelings of inadequacy.  Thinking about that alone makes me wet.  Speaking of wet, I certainly am, and it’s a shame to go to waste.  I’ll stop writing now and put my fingers to better use, stroking my soft, wet pussy in anticipation of what tomorrow will bring.

15th February

I know, I know I promised myself I would write every day, but I’m a busy girl.  When James gave me this diary at Christmas, and had written in it ‘Diary of a Special Girl’ I promised myself I would fill it with special things.  But I live an exhausting life.  It’s not that easy being this fabulous and pleasure-filled you know.  I’ll write when I can, when I need to.  You’re lucky I’m writing at all tonight. I’m just in from another night out with that mad, cocktail-sinking, cocktip-lapping fool Ange. 

I just adore Ange.  She’s my perfect partner in crime, both in and out of the office.  She gets me completely.  In fact, she’s probably the only female in the world that does.  It’s been a pretty good ‘Wifetime’, which is my and Ange’s naughty nickname for a weekend. Spent the day shopping in our favourite boutiques.  The ones with all the wicked clothes.  Ange is my ideal shopping buddy.  She always pushes me to buy the more outrageous items, the ones that are cut low, revealing the curve of my breast, sometimes barely avoiding my nipples popping out.  Skirts so short, I’m forced to wear knickers to avoid everyone seeing my bare bottom (not always though – oops). Today she purchased a pair of thigh-high boots that looked ridiculously sexy.  I couldn’t decide whether it made her look too much like a ‘madam’ but there was no way I was saying that out loud.

Ange likes to tempt and tease even more than I do, prides herself on being a total slut, and I’m slightly relieved that she’s not completely faithful to Graham.  I’m not really sure what she sees in him.  He’s not even that nice a person, a bit of a bully really.  An arrogant, ugly fool, that’s totally full of himself.  I sometimes wonder whether she actually enjoys sucking what I can only imagine is a tiny cock sticking out from under that portly beer belly.  I expect it’s his credit card that is so attractive, he being the finance director and all.  But he’s one of James’ best mates, so I shouldn’t be so cruel.  I’m just grateful that my James has such a lithe and athletic body.  It should be.  I know exactly how much he spends on personal trainers at that flashy gym he goes to.  Maybe I should nudge Ange to sign up Graham to an early heart attack exercise programme too.

Ange and I had a good laugh about the boring weekend James and Graham must be having with their “trophy” wives.  They were attending some charity gala.  I know this, because I was the one that made the donation on behalf of the company.  As we were giggling about how much they must be missing us, these two creeps wandered over to talk to us.  They bought us drinks, so that was ok, but I didn’t like the way the shorter one kept staring at my breasts.  Didn’t he know I was spoken for?  Ange didn’t seem that fussed and after a couple of drinks was all over the taller one.  At one point she disappeared with him.  Knowing Ange, she probably went off to blow him in the toilet, that’s her usual trick, I know better than to ask nowadays.  That left me a bit bored to be honest.  I just started ignoring short gropey guy, trying not to think about blow jobs.  That wasn’t so easy. 

James and I hadn’t managed to get to the H at lunchtime yesterday, so I had to hastily cancel the reservation at the last minute.  The receptionist wasn’t too pleased with me, being Valentine’s Day and all.  James wanted to leave work early, so he satisfied himself with a hasty face fuck in his office.  There wasn’t even enough time to remove any of my clothes and show him my special Valentine’s Day sexy lace bra and G-string as he pushed me to my knees and unzipped his fly.  I think he thought he was giving me a treat as he pushed his cock deeper into my mouth, his hand in my hair as he pushed my head closer to his groin. My chin was rubbing against the soft hair on his balls as I felt his thick, pulsing cock reaching the back of my throat.  I gagged slightly; I really must practice my gag reflex.  I can never work out if gagging is sexy or not.  James certainly seems to like it, as he roughly fucked my throat, grunting, muttering that I was his desperate, horny slut, his gorgeous, sexy whore. Eventually with a loud groan he came and I felt his load slide down the back of my throat.  I sometimes wonder if my gag is his trophy for using his special one so roughly.  I do love to be his trophy. Next time I see her, I must remember to ask Ange if gagging is a thumbs up or thumbs down.

19th February

Can’t write much tonight, need to choose my outfit for tomorrow.  James is taking me out with his favourite and most lucrative client.  He told me that if anyone could squeeze more money out of him, I could.  I need to be devastatingly seductive.  Oooh, an exciting night out to show off my wares.

20th February

Night out with the boys.  I’ll write more tomorrow.

21st February

So, I guess it had been an exciting night.  We went to that new restaurant, Fargo that’s impossible to get a table for.  I know this because I had to reserve one months ago.  I was wearing a strappy red dress, with silver Christian Louboutin’s that James had bought me for Christmas (well, obviously I had bought and expensed them).

The client Ron, was fun, in that immature and foolish boy/man way all those ex-public schoolboys have.  He was clearly very impressed with me. I sparkled and scintillated, giggling at their jokes as we ordered bottle after bottle of expensive champagne.  James twinkled at me, full of pride at how well I was charming his lucrative cash cow.  That rich fool Ron clearly had a bob or two, he was staying at Claridge’s.  After dinner had ended, and we’d drunk several brandies to top up the champagne, he invited us back to his hotel.  How could you say no to Claridge’s?  I felt so sophisticated, walking through the marble checkerboard foyer, a man on each arm.

We went straight up to Ron’s room, which was a shame as I would have liked to have seen the famous Champagne Bar.  But the room was so impressive and we all just dived straight into the well-stocked fridge.  I must have been quite drunk, staggering around in my heels.  I guess I was also pretty relaxed because I bent over to undo the buckle of my shoes and kicked them off.  That’s when James told me not to stop there.  I did feel a little embarrassed, stripping in front of Ron, but I knew James would want me to put on a show. 

I started to dance slowly, swaying my hips, trying to be as seductive as possible as I slipped the straps from my shoulders, slowly shimmying my dress down my body letting it slide to the floor.  James stood behind me running his hands over my shoulders, unhooking my bra, exposing me for his best client to drool over.  His fingers roamed over my breasts, tugging on my nipples, showing eager-eyed Ron how responsive I was to his touch.  I have to say, I was getting pretty excited, especially when James hands slid down over my tummy and into my knickers.  My cunt was leaking so much as he fingered me in front of my audience.   Being watched added a whole new element of excitement to my already needy pussy.  I was moaning and writhing against James’s fingers, my eyes fixed on Ron and the stiff cock tenting in his trousers for me.  Our eyes locked as he slowly unzipped his trousers and freed his throbbing cock.  I was being such a tease, licking my lips as I stared at it, all the while grinding against James fingers.   The familiarity of his touch juxtaposed against the novelty of an audience.  I made sure I put on a wonderful show. 

Suddenly James was pushing me forwards.  My body was trapped by his fingers inside me.  He gently steered me to sit on Ron, sliding his fingers out and lowering my pussy onto Ron’s waiting veiny throbbing cock.  I looked back at James to check this was alright, but he was spitting into his hand, and he smiled at me before he rubbed his saliva over my tight, virgin arsehole.  Ron’s cock wasn’t as big as James but he filled me ok and to please James I decided to put on a mighty performance, bucking up and down along his shaft, rubbing my breasts over his face.  James steadied me and pushed me forward, positioning me how he needed me to be.  Before I knew what was happening James was behind me, his hands on my buttocks, spreading them apart.  I could feel his cock probing at my tight dark star. I tensed.  Then I tried to relax.  This would be much easier if I was relaxed.  Not a word was spoken as James pushed his cock into me.  I think I managed to disguise my wincing and painful cries as whimpers and moans of pleasure.  I just didn’t want James to realise my discomfort.  I’d die of embarrassment if any of the girls in the office found out I was a DP virgin.

The boys certainly didn’t seem to notice as they fucked both my holes.  My performance was pretty convincing and even I started to enjoy the feeling of being doubly filled, enough for maybe a teeny orgasm.  The boys on the other hand, they both shot the biggest loads into my cunt and arse.  They pulled out of me together, almost perfectly choreographed, and high-fived each other. Suddenly we realised the time.  James pulled up his trousers and had to dash off home, but Ron was kind enough to get me a taxi so I didn’t have to get the last train. 

22nd February

Today James told me Ron had given him the deal.  He told me it had been all down to me. He bought me flowers and we had a quick lunch hour in the H.  We didn’t fuck.  I was still a little sore from the night before.  But I did give James a quick blow job after he gave me the flowers and a pretty bracelet to thank me for my help securing the deal. I think it was the bracelet I’d bought a while ago, especially for emergencies in case James ever forgot an occasion.  So actually, I was delighted to have received it instead of the frumpy one getting it.

25th February

It had been a pretty shit weekend, Ange was spending her time with yet another secret admirer, and I couldn’t face hanging out with any of my married friends and their squawking, stinky babies, so I binged on Netflix and chocolate.  Not even worth a diary entry.  But today I woke up with a streaming nose, sore throat and runny eyes.  I was feeling totally miserable, so took the day off work. Most unlike me.  James sent me some flowers, and I know he must have sent them himself, as there was no me there to order them for him.  I must recover as quickly as I can.  He won’t be able to manage without me and he’ll miss me too much.

26th February

Um… where to begin.  I probably shouldn’t have gone into work today.  I was still feeling really rotten and had actually called in sick again first thing.  But as the morning went on, I started to feel really guilty.  James needed me.  I was his special girl after all.  So, I knocked back some paracetamol, slapped on a thick coat of make-up to hide my red nose and blotchy face and armoured up in my sexiest work gear.  I felt slightly better. 

James was surprised when he saw me saunter into the office but he looked like he was definitely pleased to see me.  He wouldn’t come too close as he didn’t want to get any germs.  I was quite grateful to be honest.  Rather than our usual romantic romping, I got to go to the chemist at lunch time to pick up some much-needed Lemsip.  Whilst waiting to pay, some ‘Gin and Tonic’ flavoured lube caught my eye, which made me giggle and I couldn’t resist buying it.

When I got back to the office, James’s door was closed, which was odd.  Not really thinking much of it and excited to show him my new purchase (not the Lemsip obvs), I flung open the door and went inside.

James was sitting at his large desk as usual, but there was a strange look in his eye.  Like he was panicking.  He started to shoo me out of the room, telling me now wasn’t a good time.  I’d laughed, and asked how could it not be a good time, and I just had this funny thing to share with him.  As I walked towards his desk, I heard a bang coming from beneath it, and a whispered ouch, which was followed by a giggle.  I literally felt the blood drain from my face as I marched round to the other side of his desk.  I thought I was going to throw up when I looked down and saw Ange on her knees, between his thighs.  She was grinning up at me.  Actually grinning.

I couldn’t speak, and I felt this overwhelming urge to puke as I dashed out of the room to the nearest toilet where I threw my guts up.  Then I started to shake, proper all over body shakes. James and Ange… Ange and James… how… when…?

How could he stoop so low? I was his special girl. And Ange of all people!  That dirty slut.  Had I been stupid? How many other girls were there? I glanced around the office my eyes fighting back the shame, tears threatening my eyes.  Did they all know?  Were they all laughing at me?  Head hung low, I grabbed my bag, took a last look round my desk and ran out the building.

All the way home, the words ‘special girl’ were swirling round my head.  I pulled myself together.

Why would I even want to be his special girl?  I mean his cock was so small he couldn’t even make me gag properly.  He was welcome to that past-it, has-been slut Ange, who was only good for having cocks thrust down her throat.  James’s cock tasted like piss anyway, and I certainly wouldn’t miss those boring Saturday nights out.

They were all fools.  There was much better for me ahead.  Better job, better boss, better boyfriends, better freebies, better expenses, better nights out, better fucks.  I was a special girl after all. A very special girl.

(c) DaisyChained 2021. All rights reserved.