A self -made woman, a billionaire, ran Wicruel Incorporated. She was a powerful woman, and I’d hoped to follow in her footsteps and make myself into a powerful man.
The company CEO Lydia Wicruel was an industry titan who wielded enormous influence in the creative world. But, unlike so many other titans, she used her influence for good. She contributed money to and was the chair of several women’s charities.
What I admired most about Ms. Wicruel, aside from her altruism was that she wore her sexuality on her sleeve. She fucked who she liked, and she didn’t take shit from anyone about it. Lesbian, bi, or straight.
She was also a fair employer. She offered a fair shot at advancement to everyone. And as a result, she had the best creative minds in the industry working for her. She only promoted and surrounded herself with the most creative people from within her company. That’s how I came to work for her.
Yes, ma’am. I’ll answer your next question more directly. How was my working environment? It was the best.
Every woman and man who worked for Ms. Wicruel was intelligent, skilled and absolutely amazing at what they did. Most of her employees were women, lesbian or bi, which made everything about working at Wicruel so much better. The environment at work felt comfortable and accepting, just like being at home with my moms and their friends.
Was I proud to be doing such important work at such a young age? Yes, of course, I was.
I was proud and honored to have won first an internship, and then a full-time permanent position at a company where I felt so comfortable and appreciated. I was living my dream. While most of my friends were still interning, I was working as a creative inside a world famous company with a group of women I both respected and admired.
I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have won my life. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard work, but I was a hard worker. I’d earned my success. I regularly worked 70 hour weeks despite only earning the wages of a 40-hour salaried position. But, I was driven to work hard. My work was my life, and I loved my life.
Was I reaching my goals? Hmm…yes, slowly, but yes I was.
I was slowly, but surely working my way towards achieving my life goal of becoming a self-made man. I seized every opportunity available to help me reach that goal. I even attended the grueling group mentoring sessions taught by Lydia Wicruel, the billionaire herself and her millionaire friends, because I thought it would help me to become a stronger more successful man.
Pickle! Ouch! No! Cucumber! Cucumber.
Thank you for opening my crate door ma’am, my legs were starting to cramp.
Chapter 2
Woof! Woof! What ma’am? Yes, I can speak comfortably. No, my new collar isn’t too tight. The fleece lining is extraordinarily comfortable.
You want me to tell you about Roxanne? Yes, ma’am, right away. Thank you for granting me the privilege of speaking to you.
My best friend at work was Roxanne. Roxanne enjoyed a fairytale life, the life I’d always wanted. She had a beautiful, loving wife and three adorable children.
Every day when I arrived at work and sat down at our shared cubicle, I saw the picture of the five of them smiling hand in hand in front of Cinderella’s castle enjoying the ‘gay days’ festivities. Mooning over Roxanne and her wife Katherine embracing in their matching red T-shirts; that was how I started every workday.
Did I have a crush on Katherine? Yes, a huge crush. After all, she was my ideal woman.
Katherine was Rubenesque. She was a size 22; I’d guess. She certainly had curves in all the places I liked. Incredible. Just thinking about her again makes my cock twitch. Ouch! Oh-Ouch! Ouch! Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. No. I’m able to continue.
She had a body like a renaissance painting. And I adored her, in the same way, I imagine those painters must have adored their beautiful subjects.
I stared at her picture every day the way I used to stare at those old art books in high school. My parents thought I was a devoted art student. But, I was just a horny teenager.
I would trace those voluptuous women’s curves with my fingers and imagine myself back in the renaissance. I’d pretend that I was the painter, and they were my willing subjects. And of course, they’d allow me to caress their generously proportioned bodies as I painted them.
They’d allow me to touch them anywhere I liked. Oh, and how I enjoyed touching them everywhere. I’d slide my fingers over the large soft pillows of their breasts and give the beauties a squeeze. I’d run the palms of my hands over the silky, jiggling beauty of their belly rolls. I’d even reach down and run the full width of my hands over the satin ripples of their generous meaty thighs.
Over the years, I’d imagined that I’d touched so many breathtakingly beautiful women. But, not one of those women that I’d fondled had been as beautiful as Katherine. She had an adorable cherub face with dimples on either side. That dimpled smile of hers set my heart racing and my cock throbbing every time I saw it. O-o-o—ouch! Ye—s, ma’am. I understand. Yes, ma’am. I apologize.
I was a silly schoolboy when I fantasized about my ideal woman. I pretended that I only had one type, when really, there were many types of women I adored. My perfect woman didn’t have to be the ‘renaissance woman’ of my teenage dreams.
I would have also been thrilled to make love to a woman with modern perfection, like my billionaire boss, Ms. Wicruel. She was a statuesque force of nature. Her Swiss and Dutch genes gifted her an impressive height of 6’1” a just curvy enough frame, and magnificent big boobs.
From what I recall, her tits were probably size DDDs or maybe even Gs. But we both know that I’m notoriously bad at guessing bra size. Whatever size they were, they were spectacular; big, round and jiggly, just the way I like them.
Ms. Wicruel always wore the latest fashions. She wore well-fitted clothing designed to show off her many assets. The day she invited me into her private office, she wore a simple solid blue satin top and cream-colored geometric wool slacks.
Her slacks were constructed with embroidered triangles that intersected near her crotch. For an article of clothing that was so in your face sexy, those slacks were the classiest most refined pair of pants I’d ever laid eyes on.
That fateful day, I had to will myself to look away from the magnificently crafted embroidery outlining the seductive puffiness her crotch.
Didn’t Roxanne warn me about getting too close to Lydia? Yes, thank you for remembering ma’am. Yes, ma’am. Roxanne did warn me that Ms. Wicruel was a dangerous woman.
She told me to be cautious with the boss. She said that I should be fearful of the powerful billionaire. She warned me that women like Ms. Wicruel didn’t get to where they were in life by being compassionate or kind. She told me that I should steer clear of her for fear that somehow I might get on her bad side and become the object of her wrath.
Even I knew that being the object of the boss’s wrath would be dangerous for the upward trajectory of my career.
A few months before my humiliation, I invited Roxanne and Katherine out for a friendly dinner. I confided in them that I feared I would never reach my goal of becoming a powerful man. I told them I was worried I wasn’t rising in the company ranks fast enough.
My best friend and her wife were kind, telling me that I was creative’s ‘brightest star’. They both assured me that I could go as high in the company and business world as I wanted to if I played my cards right. If only I were smart, and kept my interactions with the upper echelons to brief, impressive encounters.
Yes, ma’am, you’re correct as usual. I was foolish. I was a foolish man. If I had heeded my friend’s warning, I would never have been subjected to a night of humiliation by my boss.
Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. No, I don’t want to sleep in the dog house tonight. I want to sleep in the bed with you.
Yes, ma’am. Dogs do sleep in dog houses. But, if I might be allowed to say so, dogs sometimes also sleep curled up in bed next to their Mistress’s feet.
Yes, ma’am.
Woof! Woof! Bark!
Chapter 3
Bark! Awooool! Oowooooo! Lick. Lick. Slurp.
Yes, ma’am, I apologize. I will be sure to drool more.
Smack! Rub. Smack! Rub.
Mmm…mmphf…mmphf. Drool. Lick. Drool.
Mmphf...mmphf…mmphf…mmphf. Gasp. Pant.
Yes, ma’am. I enjoy cleaning you with my tongue. No, I don’t view it as a humiliation; I view it as a privilege.
Thank you for granting me the privilege of cleaning you.
Yes, ma’am, you’re correct as usual. My boss Ms. Wicruel had every right to humiliate me. I was foolish. I was foolish for ogling such a powerful woman.
But like all foolish men, I couldn’t stop myself from fantasizing about what it would have been like to touch such a powerful woman’s body. I wanted to be the man to own her body. Instead, she was the woman who both owned and humiliated my body.
Who owns and humiliates my body now? You do ma’am.
Smack! Rub. Smack! Rub.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
O-o-o-o-ouch!
Yes, ma’am. I do have a low pain tolerance. But, I’m okay. I am okay to continue.
No, ma’am. No. My collar is not too tight. The steel is adequately comfortable.
Mmm…mmphf…mmphf. Drool. Lick. Drool.
Mmphf...mmphf…mmphf…mmphf. Gasp. Pant.
Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of cleaning you again with my tongue.
Yes, ma’am. Woof! Woof! Bark! Bark! Awoooool!
Click. Lock. Crawl.
Pant.
Yes, ma’am. I enjoy crawling around on all fours for you.
Tail? Oh, Yes ma’am, I believe I’ve earned the privilege of wearing a tail.
You want me to place my forehead on the floor? Now?
Yes, ma’am, right away ma’am.
Lube. Push. Ugh! Thrust. Ugh! Slip.
Lube. Push. Slide. Thrust. Ugh! Clamp.
Yes, ma’am, I agree. I’m not as tight as I used to be.
Yes, ma’am. I am capable of wagging my tail for you while I speak.
What? Was I ever a success during my time at Wicruel Incorporated? Yes, ma’am, I believe I was.
After one of the large group mentoring sessions I attended, Ms. Wicruel’s assistant called me up to the stage to personally meet the billionaire alongside two of her female millionaire friends. All three women had knowledge of me and my creative work.
They all seemed impressed by me. All three women complimented both me and my art. One of the women even patted me on the shoulder. The next thing I knew, I’d received a promotion to the position of Creative Project Manager.
Roxanne, Katherine, and I, we all celebrated my success together that night. The two of them got Katherine’s mother to babysit so we could all go out for drinks. It was an amazing night. First we got wasted on whiskey at a bar and then we went back to my place to party and celebrate.
The evening of my big promotion marked the forty-first time Katherine had given me a blowjob while Roxanne watched. I know, I know. What I was doing, it was insanity. What kind of man allows his best friend’s wife to give him a blowjob right in front of her?
I shouldn’t have allowed it. I should never have let my best friend’s wife wrap her soft pink lips around my cock. I should never have enjoyed the friction and suction of that beautiful cherub’s mouth drawing me deeply inside her warm wet channel.
And I definitely should never have fucked both her and Roxanne after she gave me that blowjob.
I knew that having a threesome with my best friend and her wife was not an intelligent use of my energies. But those nights spent sharing Katherine and Roxanne in my bed, were some of the best nights of my entire life.
And, in truth, our threesome was something we all desperately craved. Roxanne craved being cuckolded. Katherine craved my cock. And I craved and needed the comfort of plunging my dick deep inside the tight luxurious pussies of my two best friends in the entire world.
Ouch! Oh-ouch! O-o-o-o-o-www!
Gasp. Pant.
Yes, ma’am. I apologize ma’am.
What? What ma’am? You want to hear about my mentoring sessions with Lydia? Yes, ma’am, I will tell you about them right away.
As you know, Ms. Wicruel and her friends did big business with their coaching and mentoring workshops. They were popular and respected speakers. Everyone, including me, wanted to know their secrets to confidence, power and success.
Thousands of people were present at the first mentoring workshop I attended. And it was held in a large sold out auditorium.
By the night of my humiliation, I’d advanced far enough with them, that I was then attending small intimate workshops with less than a dozen participants.
I thought that by inviting me to attend elite mentoring workshops, Ms. Wicruel and her friends were grooming me for something lofty and transcendent. I was mistaken. They were grooming me for something low and depraved.
Yes, ma’am, I’m ready for you to switch out my doggy tail now.
Yes, ma’am, you’re correct. You’ve never inserted a tail that thick inside of my rectum before. No, ma’am, I don’t believe I’m ready to take a tail that thick yet.
Yes, ma’am, I apologize. I know you are the one who tells me what I’m ready for.
Yes, ma’am, I know what my safe word is. It’s cucumber. I understand that you will stop inserting my new tail immediately if I choose to speak my safe word.
You want me to place my forehead on the floor?
Yes, ma’am, right away ma’am.
Grasp. Tug. Pop.
Lube. Rub. Lube.
Push. Ugh! Twist. Ugh! Push. Ugh!
Drip. Push. Ugh! Drip. Thrust. Ugh!
Uggggh! Clamp.
Yes, ma’am, I agree. That was easier than I thought it would be. I am a lot looser than I used to be.
Am I comfortable? No, ma’am, my rectum burns, but I’m okay. I am okay to continue.
Yes, ma’am. Yes, I am capable of wagging my tail for you.
Thank you for petting me ma’am.
Thank you for saying I please you. Your words fill me with happiness.
Chapter 4
Where do I want your kisses?
I want your soft kisses on my cheeks. I want your tender kisses on my lips. I want your gentle kisses on my chest, my love.
What sort of kisses do I want on my cock? Rough kisses. I want your vicious kisses on my cock, my cruel seductress.
No? You refuse to be cruel to my cock. Very well, my wife, kiss my cock kindly now. I will be patient. I will wait until we resume our play for you to be cruel.
***
Ugh!
Smack! Rub. Smack! Rub.
Yes, ma’am, you are correct as usual. I was foolish. I was a foolish man.
I should have known my boss was grooming me for debauchery. The entire time she was mentoring me, she was measuring me. My cruel teacher was slowly stripping away my confident mask and revealing who I was deep inside.
She uncovered the real me. She unearthed that debasement was something I craved.
Yes, ma’am, you are correct. I was an immoral man. I’d invited my best friend and her wife to the hotel where I received my final mentoring session. After a friendly dinner, I invited Roxanne, who was now my subordinate at work up to our shared hotel suite, where we engaged in yet another filthy threesome with her wife. We three enjoyed a night and a morning filled with humiliating and debauched sexual acts.
Smack!
Yes, ma’am. I deserved punishment. I was naughty.
Smack! Smack! Ugh!
I should have known Ms. Wicruel and her millionaire friends would find out about my sinful lifestyle. I should have known those three powerful women craved the sadistic pleasure of punishing and humiliating me for my deviant behavior and perverse desires.
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
Ugggh! Cough. Cough. Drool.
No, ma’am. My collar is not too tight.
No, ma’am. My collar is not comfortable. My pronged collar is nipping at my neck, just as it’s designed to do.
Yes, ma’am. I can see the prongs are not digging into my flesh. I know am safe.
Yes, ma’am. I can breathe easily and speak comfortably. And yes, your firm thrusts inside my rectum are making me extraordinarily sore inside. But, your thick, long dildo is not causing me any pain. It is doing an excellent job of penetrating me deeply, exactly as it was designed to do.
Yes, ma’am. I agree. You are good to me. You are keeping me safe by satiating my cravings.
***
Smack!
No, ma’am. I am not comfortable bent over your knee.
Why? My thighs are trembling inside.
Smack!
Yes, ma’am. I understand you enjoy watching my thighs quiver.
Smack!
You are correct as usual. I deserved my punishment at the hands of my boss.
Why? Because I was a bad boy.
Smack!
Why do I deserve this punishment at the hands of my wife? Because I am still a bad boy.
Yes, ma’am. I am a naughty bad boy.
Smack!
Smack!
Awooool! Woof! Woof!
Pant.
***
I promise. I promise you I have never told any other woman about my ordeal. You are my wife, my love, my mistress. You are the only woman who satisfies my cravings. You are the one woman in the world capable of comforting me and keeping me safe. I would never share my secrets with anyone other than you, my own true and only love.
It makes this foolish man happy to know you still want to hear me tell you about my first humiliation, even after all our years together. This story I share with you is yours and yours alone to enjoy with me, my beautiful, kind and cruel wife.
Chapter 5
As you know, Lydia Wicruel was my boss and my mentor. She was a forty-five-year-old stunner, with short platinum blonde hair, large ripe melon tits, thick curvy hips and long shapely legs. She, along with her two millionaire friends, one tall and raven-haired and the other short and brunette, lured me into the boutique hotel’s tiny conference room that afternoon, with the promise of a private mentoring session.
Unprotected Zombie Dairy: A BDSM Menage Page 19