Molly and the New Editor Pt. 01

Author's note: this story is more D/s than BDSM.

*****

Molly was feeling apprehensive.

Her former editor, Charlie, had retired early so he could live his dream of sailing around the world. Her relationship with him over the years had been wonderful. He praised her erotic short stories, telling her how great they were. Telling her how little he needed to do to them, since they were so polished. Okay, maybe some of that praise from him was generated by his desire to get into her pants. He'd even asked her if she wanted to sail with him on his retirement venture. She liked him – a lot – but not quite that much.

So now she had a new editor, Gwendolyn, a.k.a. Gwen. Molly'd submitted her latest story collection in the usual manner. In the past, Charlie would make his minor corrections to it, and send it back to her for her final write up. Visits to the office were confined to discussions of Molly's upcoming projects. But this time, Molly received a call from Gwen directly, rather than getting her manuscript back.

"Molly? This is Gwen," she'd said. "We need to talk. Can you be in my office by 3 pm today?" The way she'd said it sounded more like a command than a request. And, in Molly's experience, any time a person said the words 'we need to talk' it was bad news. Therefore Molly was apprehensive as she rode the elevator up to the floor where Gwen's office was located.

It was Charlie's old office, so Molly knew right where to go. And she was well known enough to the staff that no one stopped her from walking back – mostly, they said 'hello' and 'hello Molly' as she passed. The door to Charlie's office was closed when Molly reached it, and that was unusual, in and of itself. It was just 3 pm, so Molly tapped on the door.

"Come in," Gwen called out.

As Molly entered, Gwen said, "Ah, Molly. Right on time. Close the door. Have a seat." All this was spoken in a flat monotone, with no lilt of greeting. Gwen didn't rise, didn't smile, and didn't offer her hand.

Molly looked at the stern-faced woman behind the desk, with her closely-cropped black hair, her dark irises, her lack of makeup other than a smear of lipstick. Her first impression was that Gwen was what might loosely be called a 'butch' in her general orientation, and maybe also a 'bitch' in personality, judging from her lack of warmth. The meeting was off to a very bad start.

It got worse when Gwen opened a desk drawer, pulled out Molly's manuscript, and tossed it onto the center of her desk. "This," Gwen pronounced, "is tripe, Molly. I've read all your collections, and each one seems as trite as the last. Your work seems to lack a true feeling for the subject matter."

Molly's jaw dropped. Charlie had never spoken to her like this.

"Your writing seems to be mechanical and hackneyed, rather than visceral," Gwen continued. "It's almost like you don't have any 'skin in the game' as they say. You write about sex and bondage as if you've never experienced them."

Molly's heart sank, hearing those words. The problem was that Gwen was deadly accurate in her assumptions. Molly had been writing about things she imagined. Charlie had never called her on this – was he just being kind? Had he been jollying her along, hoping to get her into bed sometime? Were people laughing behind her back? The thing is, Molly enjoyed writing. And she enjoyed writing in this genre, because it gave her a vicarious thrill, imagining the situations she described. She was crestfallen to think that this path of emotional release was being closed. And if Gwen thought her writing was this bad, would she be able to find another publishing house that would take her?

Gwen interrupted her train of thought, asking, "When was the last time you got laid, Molly?"

Her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, Molly was shocked by such a direct, personal question.

"How many hand jobs have you given? Blow jobs? How often do you have anal sex? When was the last time you had your pussy eaten? Do you yourself like going down on women?" Gwen kept hammering her with questions.

"As far as bondage goes, how many times have you ever been tied up during sex? Have you ever felt the bite of nipple clamps? How about spanking, flogging, caning, whipping – any experience with those?" Gwen was relentless in her inquiries.

Molly sagged in her chair, then slumped. She was having a difficult time holding back her tears. It had been years since she'd even had vanilla sex, missionary position, with an ex-boyfriend. She'd never had the opportunity to experiment sexually with another woman. She fantasized about bondage scenarios, and liked fantasizing about them, which is why such elements kept creeping into her stories. But she had no real experience with such things. Gwen was baldly exposing her inadequacies. Despair overwhelmed her, and she started weeping.

Gwen revealed her first scintilla of concern when she saw Molly's tears. She arose from her chair, and came around her desk to kneel next to Molly, asking, "What's wrong?"

Molly sucked in a breath of air and blubbered, "But I like writing these sorts of stories. Now I don't know what I'm going to do."

Gwen stroked Molly's hair in a manner designed to soothe. "Honey, I wasn't saying that you had to stop writing. I'm just trying to get to the heart of the problem. I can tell that you're a good writer, and by good, I mean you have a good grammatical style, and attention to details, and you attempt to invoke many of the readers senses. This publishing house has a strong bent towards erotica, whether the stories deal with bondage or not. We feel the stories work out best when they're based upon at least an iota of experience. That's why I was questioning your experiences."

"I don't seem to have much experience," Molly confessed. "All those questions you asked me. I just heard myself mentally answering 'none' to almost all of them. But what can I do about it?"

"We don't want to lose you as a writer, Molly. Far from it. Most of the manuscripts that I have to read look like they were written by people that never finished the fourth grade. Yours are an editorial pleasure to read, by comparison. But we have to help you develop your intimate knowledge of the subject matter," Gwen explained.

Molly's tears had stopped flowing, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose with tissues that she pulled from her purse. "You think you can help me? How? In what way? I don't want to read other people's stories. I'm afraid certain phrases will stick in my mind, leading to plagiarism, so I've avoided doing that, Gwen. So what's left? What can I do?" Molly's questions tumbled out, as if she was flailing around in deep water, unable to swim, desperate to reach the life ring nearby.

Gwen grinned. "It's so obvious, I'm surprised a clever woman like you hasn't thought of it already." She took Molly's hand. "Come with me."

She led the mystified Molly down the hall to another office. Hearing 'come in' in answer to her tap, Gwen opened the door, and led Molly in, closing the door behind them. She spoke to the good-looking, dark-haired man behind the desk. "Thomas, this is Molly, the writer we discussed. Molly, meet Thomas, an Associate Editor here."

Molly's heart flip-flopped in her chest. Was Gwen passing her off to an underling editor? Nevertheless, she plastered a smile on her face and said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Thomas."

Thomas looked her up and down, smiling. "The feeling is mutual, I'm sure, Molly."

"Still willing, Thomas?" Gwen asked him. He grinned and nodded. "Excellent," Gwen continued. Turning to Molly, she said, "OK, Molly. Give Thomas a blow job."

Molly froze, refusing to believe what she'd just heard. "Do what?" she queried, voice cracking.

"You must've heard me, Molly. Give Thomas a blow job," Gwen repeated.

Molly stared at Gwen, then at Thomas, and stated, "You must be joking. You can't be serious." But Thomas had swiveled his chair sideways from his desk, tacitly giving her access to his lap.

"I'm very serious, Molly," Gwen rebutted. "I want you to kneel down between his legs and do it. But not just a quickie, mind you. While you're doing it, use all your senses, and tell me what you're aware of and what you're feeling. You need experience, we both agree, and I want you to be mindfully present as you gain fresh knowledge."

It took Molly a minute or so to process what Gwen was saying. Strange as this situation seemed, it appeared that Gwen and Thomas were really trying to help her make her writings more realistic, by giving her personal knowledge to draw upon. And Thomas appeared to be warm and inviting, and he certainly was good looking. She found herself wondering what his cock would feel like in her hands – it had been so long since she'd held one. This was her chance. But Gwen would be watching, and Molly, perpetually shy, didn't think she was much of an exhibitionist.

She was still mentally warring within herself when her body apparently moved of its own volition. She certainly didn't think she'd decided to do this. But her body stepped around the corner of Thomas' desk, and its knees bent, and she found herself nestled between his legs, looking up into his face!

Remembering that Gwen had instructed her to report information, Molly began, "I'm aware of Thomas' deep brown eyes, and the way they sparkle. Of his lips, curved into a smile of invitation. I can see the blood vessel in his neck pulsing, showing me how his heart rate is increasing as he sees me between his legs. His chest is moving up and down, as his breathing deepens. It looks like he's gripping the chair arms more tightly in anticipation of what I'm about to do."

"Yes, very good. Keep going," Gwen encouraged.

Molly placed her hands on Thomas' thighs. "The warmth of his clothing under my hands feels wonderful." She moved her hands up and down his thighs slowly. "The texture of the material is smooth and pleasing. I think I can see him stirring under his trousers as I speak and describe these things."

Gathering her courage, Molly placed her hand gently on his crotch. "Yes... there is subtle movement here, where I'm touching." Her hands moved to his belt. "I'm aware of the smell and the feel of the leather of his belt as I tug it loose, like this." Having undone the belt, Molly tilted the top edge of his trousers forward, looking inside. "Inside the top front of his trousers is a hook, reminiscent of a hook on the back of my bra." She unhooked it, and took hold of the tab on his zipper. Slowly dragging the zipper downward, she reported, "My fingers are vibrating as I unzip his fly, and the 'zzzzzt' of the zipper is clearly audible in the quiet of this room. Quiet, that is, except for the heavier breathing of the three people present in the room."

Molly moved her hands out of sight into the space behind Thomas, between his body and the chair. "I'm blindly hooking my fingers under his waistband near the small of his back, and I'm well aware that my fingers are finally in direct contact with his flesh, because I'm grasping both his trousers and his underpants. Now I'm encouraging him to lift his butt a small amount as I pull at his clothing, because I want him naked from his waist down, with his clothing pooled at his ankles." Her actions suited her words.

She paused, her hands resting on his naked thighs, and gazed at his exposed manhood. "This is my first look at Thomas' cock, and I hope he'll not be offended if I describe it as 'cute' looking. It's resting atop his furry ball sack, cradled between two prominent, oval-shaped testicles. Seeing the size of those testicles gives me hope that this man can deliver a nice sized load. His cock is still rather limp, but I hope to change that soon."

Molly turned her head towards Gwen, and then tilted it until her cheek softly rested on Thomas' cock and balls. "I like the feel of his manly package against my cheek." She moved her head in small circles, nuzzling against him. "His skin feels warm, and the fur on his scrotum tickles my cheek as it caresses it. In this position, his earthly, spicy scent fills my nostrils. I'm enjoying it. Oh – I think I'm getting a response now. His cock is pressing more firmly against my cheek."

Thomas was indeed responding, feeling Molly touching him in this manner, and hearing her describe her perceptions. He looked over at Gwen and winked as he nodded.

As Molly raised her cheek upward, Thomas' cock stuck to her skin briefly, then came free. Partially engorged now, it hovered in the air, arched over his ball sack. "Since this was trapped in his clothing all day, I imagine it got a bit sweaty," Molly mused, taking the crown of his penis delicately between her thumb and index finger. "Let's find out," she murmured, bringing her lips close to its shaft.

Gwen and Thomas both watched intently as Molly poked out her tongue and began licking the entire surface of the cock's shaft. If she licked it hesitantly at first, she quickly overcame her shyness, and began tongue bathing it with obvious relish. "Mmmmm, yes," she purred. "Quite salty and delicious." Under her oral ministrations, the cock soon became fully erect. Its purplish glans swelled like a mushroom cap at its peak. Perhaps Thomas was working some internal musculature, but for some reason the glans seem to surge and ebb, as if begging for Molly's mouth.

But Molly was fully into savoring this experience by this point, so she scooped up Thomas' testicles, one in each hand. Giving each individual attention, she carefully sucked it into her mouth, and thoroughly washed it with an eager tongue. As the second one popped free of her lips, Molly commented, "It felt fantastic having his balls in my mouth. I loved sucking on them, and from the moaning sounds that Thomas is making, I think he liked it too."

"OMG, yes!" Thomas confirmed. His cock was now jerking up and down as his body expressed his excitement. The tiny slit in the head of his cock was oozing a clear fluid, droplets of which were being flung into the air by its motions. One arced through the air, and struck Molly right on the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

"That must be his precum that he's tossing all over the place," she chuckled. "Can't have that getting on everything, now can we?" To Thomas' immense relief, she took control of his errant member with her hand, leaned forward, pursed her lips, and swiftly engulfed its head with her warm mouth, sucking.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good!" Thomas groaned.

Molly took her mouth off of his cock long enough to look him in the eye and promise, "It's going to feel a lot better very soon, Sir. Your precum tastes delightful, by the way. Now I want to discover what your cum tastes like." Molly was learning that, even though it had been a long time since she'd given a blow job, just like riding a bicycle, the body stores memories of how things are done.

Gwen nodded approvingly as she watched Molly not only return to sucking on the head of Thomas' cock, but also add several actions designed to intensify his pleasure. Molly was bobbing her head up and down rapidly, while one of her hands pumped the base of his dick, and her other hand caressed his balls. Gwen had hoped that Molly could put aside her shyness, and embrace passion. It was now obvious that she could. Gwen judged that nothing else in the world existed for Molly at this moment other than Thomas' cock. She was watching Molly give one of the most heartfelt blow jobs that she'd ever seen.

Thomas, gripping the arms of his chair, was slowly arching his back, raising his pelvis in offering to Molly's ravenous mouth. "Shit, shit, shit!" he cried. "I'm trying to hold back, but I can't!" His whole body shuddered as he began spurting.

Molly continued her head bobbing, cock pumping, and ball caressing as Thomas started his orgasm. The only new thing that she added was swallowing, drinking his semen as fast as he could spurt it. She'd almost forgotten how good semen tasted to her. She quenched her thirst as well as she could, consuming whatever Thomas could give her. When he stopped shuddering, and slumped back down onto his chair, she used her hands to strip whatever cum remained in his cock's shaft up to its head, and into her mouth.

She settled back onto her heels, still holding his deflating dick in her hand, and smiled up at Gwen. "His cum has a very piquant flavor, Gwen. I wouldn't mind having more of it in the future. I couldn't relate any details with my mouth full, but as I sucked on him, it felt like his cock swelled even more in my mouth. I was fully focused on what was in my mouth and hands, and only vaguely aware of his moans, groans, and ragged breathing. I wasn't aware of you being in the room at all, I'm afraid. When his hips rose toward my face, and he cried out, within a second or two I felt his cock began to twitch as spasms rippled along it. After that, it was all I could do to swallow his load fast enough to keep myself from choking." Lifting Thomas' scrotum to call attention to it, she continued, "These balls of his really can deliver a massive load, as I'd hoped."

On impulse, Molly rose up and kissed Thomas gratefully. Angling herself so that she could see both Gwen and Thomas, Molly asked them, "Is that what you had in mind when you told me to give Thomas a blow job?"

Gwen answered for the two of them, because Thomas was still panting, trying to catch his breath. "Molly, that was spectacular! I've never seen it done better. But the big question is, do you think that you can incorporate all those details, all that passion, into your writing?"

In answer, Molly closed her eyes, and briefly relived what she'd done, remembering the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures, along with the feelings that arose in her. With a happy smile, she replied, "Yes, Gwen. I think I can. I think I can weave a rich tapestry, given what just happened in this room. Thank you."

"I don't think we're done for today, though," Gwen said. "You've proven you're accomplished at fellatio, but how about cunnilingus?"

Molly's face colored with embarrassment. "I've never had the chance, Gwen. I told you my sex life was very vanilla."

"Well, dear, there's no time like the present," Gwen stated, eyes gleaming. She sat down in one of the other office chairs.

"Gwen, do you mean..." Molly's voice trailed off as her mouth went dry.

"Yes, Molly. Do me – right here, right now. And yes, with Thomas watching."

"I've... I've always wanted to try, but to be honest, I feel very shy right now."

"Why?" Gwen asked her.

Molly thought for a moment. "The unknown, I guess. But I'm willing to try." Even though Molly said that aloud, her heart was still filled with trepidation. In the distant past, she had given lovers blow jobs, but she had never ever gone down on a woman. As Molly walked over to Gwen's chair, she felt her legs starting to shake, so she quickly knelt down. Her hands betrayed her fear and uncertainty, because they were shaking as she reached out towards Gwen's legs.

Gwen sat there and looked down with a bemused expression at the woman kneeling between her legs. "She's a virgin at doing this. This should be very interesting," she thought. Speaking to Molly she said, "Don't forget to narrate what you're doing and feeling."

Molly nodded her understanding, and began, "My body apparently wants to hyperventilate, so I'm deliberately forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. As I kneel here, I'm feeling rather submissive for some reason – I didn't feel that way in front of Thomas." Molly didn't say it out loud, but she felt that Gwen exuded an aura of power, which was quite palpable to her.

"Looking at your skirt, I'm aware that it ends with its hem just above your knees," Molly continued. She placed her hands on Gwen's bare knees, pleased that the firm contact helped keep them from shaking further. "The skin that I'm feeling is very smooth, unlike Thomas' – and it's even more warm than his was."