Message-ID: <21428asstr$943341001@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: NightShade Subject: {ASSM} Story: Mr. Walter's Helper (Mf, MF+, BDSM, Rom) - MWH01.txt [1/1] X-Original-Message-ID: Reply-To: i_m_nightshade@hotmail.com Lines: 199 NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 22 Nov 1999 19:58:23 CST X-Abuse-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers X-Abuse-Info: Otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly Date: Tue, 23 Nov 1999 02:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, kelly, gill-bates, Vulpine THE USUAL WARNINGS: This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this type of material is illegal where you are, don't read any further. This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in which physical acts and human responses are not limited to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and responses in this story may be physically impossible and/or physiologically improbable. Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful; gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused their breasts to droop nor have wrinkles creased their unblemished faces. The men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls. They can get it up and keep it up often and at will. In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies; and guilt is a four-letter word. But most important of all, no amount of strength of character, courage of convictions or moral beliefs stand a chance against an erotic stimulus. This can be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals. For those of you who didn’t understand the preceding statements, GO AWAY! This story is intended for the salacious entertainment of consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the things described in this story. You will injure yourself or your partner. Or be arrested, or shot by her father.... If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain. If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where you are, GO AWAY! By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that results from reading this story. If you don’t, GO AWAY! You have been warned! If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on a site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for it. So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the story!....? NightShade Mr. Walter’s Helper by NightShade (FF, MF, oral, vaginal, anal, light bd, light sm, rom) 12/96, revised 6/99 Chapter 1 Elmer had watched an endless parade of job applicants for three days. For the miserly wages the cheap bitch owner who ran Silver’s Department Store, where he worked, was willing to pay for his assistant, it was no wonder the people who applied for the job had no idea what being a photographer’s assistant was about. Most of the applicants just sat in the chair across from his desk and dumbly nodded at his questions. Then they asked him to sign a form for the Unemployment Office to show they had been looking for a job. What a fucking waste of time! It was with not a small amount of rancor that he waited for his next appointment. Ol’ lady Silver’s secretary had set this one up herself. Orders from the top. No way to say ‘No’ on this one. During the one-sided conversation he had had less than an hour ago, the secretary doing all the talking, he had as much as been told that he would hire this next applicant, no questions asked. This one, a young girl, was a relative of the big bitch herself and she was taking a personal interest in finding her something to do. How Mrs. Silver got saddled babysitting her niece made for interesting speculation, but you had to give it to her. She had really been trying to find a spot for her. Apparently, Mrs. Silver’s niece had screwed up her last four positions in Finance, Counter Sales, Customer Service and Shipping. He guessed that put him at the bottom of the corporate totem pole as the in-house photographer for Advertising. Elmer was the last place for the owner to dump her niece, and she had been assigned to him. The interview process was simply a formality. He had been told to use her however he could and to keep her out of Mrs. Silver’s way. No one else in the company wanted her after the stories of her catastrophic performances in the other departments had gone around the rumor mill. Elmer hadn’t heard all of them, but he could almost hear the secretary’s eyes rolling in her head over the phone. Fuming and muttering as he was, he didn’t hear the timid knock on the door. When he didn’t answer, the knock came again, this time only slightly louder. “Come in,” he barked. The door crept open just enough to let in an obviously shy young girl. He guessed her age at 16 or 17, though she had to be at least 18 to work here. Or were relatives exempt? He couldn’t remember. The waif-like girl was dressed in a shapeless old frock and run-down, but sensible shoes. Her dirty dark hair was oily and stringy, hanging in clumps. There was no make-up on her face. This frumpy, lumpy shapeless blob was not at all what he had expected of the owner’s niece. He had expected a spoiled brat, not Cinderella. “Please, sit down,” he said. Her wide-eyed innocent look amused him, and he cocked his head as he looked at her more closely. His photographer’s eye automatically analyzed her and he was surprised when he found that she had possibilities in front of the camera. Very strong possibilities. The bone structure of her face would accept make-up nicely. She had classic lines in her cheekbones and nose. He couldn’t make out her figure through the multiple layers of her dress, but her face didn’t show either excess fat or anorexia. “Not a beauty right now, but she definitely could be a looker,” he thought to himself. Out loud he started, “I’m Elmer Walters. So, you’re going to be working for me, Miss …?” He paused, waiting for her to supply her last name for him. “Suzy,” she answered. “Suzy Smith. But please call me Suzy.” “OK, Suzy. What do you know about photography or advertising?,” he continued, not knowing what to expect with this one. “Oh, is that what you do down here?,” she asked innocently, not realizing she had touched a nerve as to the location of his office. “Nothing, I guess.” Inwardly, Elmer flinched. “Damn that woman and all her fucking relatives.” With a sigh, Elmer began to outline the responsibilities of the job to the young girl. He talked about working all night to meet the newspaper deadlines, doing make-up for the models, building the sets, getting the props down the freight elevators from the various departments upstairs and then back before the store opened in the morning, loading the still cameras, working with the film, running the back- up video cameras, setting up the lights for the shoots and developing the film. The girl sat quietly and listened. Elmer was not sure if she had understood anything until he noticed a tear trickle down her cheek. “Oh, SHIT!,” he swore under his breath. “A fuckin’ crier.” Biting his tongue, he softly asked, “Is there something wrong?” It came out a whole lot more gentle than he felt, but this was the boss’s niece, and who knew how direct the pipeline back was to the boss. This show of sympathy, however false, seemed to break the dam holding back a flood of tears. Finally, she stopped the flow of tears, wiped the snot running from her nose on a soiled handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her blouse. She started mumbling with her head bent down in shame. “Suzy! Sit up straight and speak up!,” he told her sharply. Startled, she sat up. “Yes Sir! But I can’t do make-up. I – I – I don’t know how,” she managed to get out between sobs. “And I wouldn’t know which end of a camera to point at the models. And, well, I - I –I…”, she stuttered on. “Easy to fix that!,” he answered. “I know a couple of the girls up in Cosmetics. You can take lessons from them. And we’ll get you some clothes from the Young Miss Department and make an appointment with the Beauty Salon.” He paused. “Can you start tomorrow? OK? We’ll teach you everything else you need to know as we go along.” The look of gratitude in her eyes amazed him. “Had no one ever shown this kid even basic kindness?,” he wondered as he watched her leave his office. He reached for the phone on his desk. He had several calls to make. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- End of chapter All my published works are archived and can be read or downloaded free at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/authors/NightShade/ Comments to: i_m_nightshade@hotmail.com -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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