by Tina Majors
The middle escalator soon filled up and people all took their turn in selecting their floor. Since childhood I had always enjoyed using escalators, I’m not sure why maybe it was to do with madcap antics that tend to occur in them in television shows for children?
Well, not much was happening in this lift I can tell you. Just people on their smartphones, thumbs bouncing around the screens accessing emails, social media, sports news, current affairs, you name it.
Couldn’t people just put their phones away for a single moment during the day, I wondered.
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket but out of principle I just left it in there unlooked at and untouched. My eyes wandered around the various people in the lift and didn’t report much back to my brain others that the mobile phone observation and a seemingly uniform taste for white plastic boxes with a sandwich and a piece or two of fruit inside.
Oh what excitement, I thought, chuckling to myself at how boring they were.
Maybe they were exciting sandwiches, but I doubted it.
Probably just awful generic fillings, I groaned internally.
Then suddenly, PING, I was at my floor. Time to get business sorted out, I thought.
Little did I know it was business that was going to sort me out this time.
**
I walked out of the elevator and towards the office. As I walked in I was a bit taken aback, there was a hush to the large open plan room that wouldn’t normally be the case.
I also couldn’t help but notice that as I was walking towards the manager’s office people were looking at me a bit different.
Oh well, probably a grumpy Monday, I thought.
I walked into the manager’s office and was taken aback.
Where was Stevey?
And who was this woman, seemingly in his place?
Let me take a moment to describe her. Long dark brown hair, shiny and silky. Beautiful face, plump lips. Large, mountainous almost, breasts just desperate to burst out of their tight white shirt. A tight, small waist just above a set of hips that would happily knock many a man or woman to the floor with their power.
I found myself almost visibly drooling, I was totally in this woman’s control and she hadn’t even said a word.
“Right, you can stop staring for a start,” Suzanne said. “Things are a little different round here now. I’ve checked the schedule and I can see you are late. Well, this will be the first and last time you show up late to a scheduled meeting, let me tell you.”
I was astonished by what I was hearing.
The previous manager Stevey had been a real bloke’s bloke, bit of banter and then bang out the work in twenty minutes.
This was different.
Suzanne, who was at least my height, walked out from behind her desk and I could help but notice her large, muscular bottom packed tight into her pinstriped suit trousers. I could feel my dick harden in my pants and felt a flush of embarrassment redden my cheeks.
“Oh for God’s sake, control yourself you moron,” Suzanne said.
She walked up to me and stood in front of me, way too close to be appropriate but I just felt powerless to do anything to stop her.
“Now, I’m the new boss here and had you been on time you would have witnessed what I laid out at my new meeting,” She said, firmly. “And you would have seen what I do to people who don’t fall immediately into line. Go ahead, have a look.”
She pointed her manicured fingers towards the window in her office that looked out onto the open plan area.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
A man, I think it was Peterson, was shuffling along the office floor towards the photocopier with his trousers and pants down around his ankles.
And even more shockingly, as if that wasn’t enough, I could see that his ass cheeks were both red!
Looking around, I could see a mixture of mirth and nervousness amongst the other people in the office.
The nervousness seemed to be from the men, the mirth largely from the women.
As Peterson walked past Mandy (the office flirt), I witnessed her grab him around his cock and give him a quick slap on his ass before pushing him onwards towards the copier.
This was scandalous!
“Now do you have an idea about how things are going to be around here from now on?” Suzanne said, clearly noticing how shocked I was.
All I could do was nod my head, totally shocked, undeniably turned on, but also wondering what would happen to me now.
If Peterson had been punished and was being humiliated like this, what would I face for being late and clearly annoying this utterly stunning and powerful woman?
“Answer me, boy,” Suzanne said, her voice definitely raised and totally unimpressed.
“Y-y-y-yes,” I said.
I was still in shock and kept casting a worried glance towards Peterson who was now bent over the photocopier and surrounded by a group of six women (all of whom I had inappropriately flirted with at previous visits and work nights out) who were taking turns to spank him, spread his cheeks wide open as they took photos on their mobiles.
This couldn’t be right, this was a violation, and I was going to say something.
“Wait,” I said. “This isn’t going to wash with me. I have rights.”
I spoke as authoritatively as I could, but I must have sounded utterly hopeless and pathetic.
Then suddenly, I found myself on the floor, flat on my back.
Suzanne clearly had self-defence training, and probably some MMA skills too.
She dropped herself down on me, winding me a little.
I looked up and saw her immensely powerful thighs either side of my head, her crotch right in my eyeline. I felt totally emasculated, in pain, but also had a raging hard on.
I was worried I might even cum in my pants.
“Listen here you shit, this is how it is now for you,” Suzanne said, angry but also laughing as he reached her hand around and grabbed my stiff dick through my trousers.
“Well, you’re clearly not that unhappy with the new set up, although to be honest if this is the biggest this little thing goes I might have to give you a different role in the office,” She raged. “Do you even qualify as a man with such a small dicklet?”
Suzanne briefly lifted herself off me before dropping back and grinding her pussy into my face over and over.
“Listen well, bitch, you are under my command now, I run this ship, you do as I say, when I say, and how I say, is that understood you little worm?” She said, her voice a mixture of control, anger, and mischief.
I mumbled and tried to say yes, nodded my head, tried to do anything I could to get some air.
“Good, I’ll take that as a yes.,” She laughed. “Now, we’re going to have to show the rest of the team how you have willingly fallen into line. First get up and get these fucking clothes off, all of them, come on, quickly, don’t make things worse for yourself.”
I stood up and removed my clothes, utterly humiliated as I took off my briefs to reveal my hard-on bouncing up and down, a little precum leaking out.
“Move those hands away, I want to see this little worm dance for me,” Suzanne said. “Oh dear, that is smaller than I thought. You’re a proper little small cocked loser aren’t you? I said: aren’t you?”
“Y-y-y-y-yes,” I stuttered.
“What are you? Speak up!” Suzanne demanded.
“I’m a small cocked loser, please, please, don’t make me go out there like this,” I said, totally helpless and knowing full well that my please would fall on deaf ears.
“No chance, right, that’s it, you’re pissing me off, get out there now,” Suzanne said.
With that, she grabbed me by my arm, put a slight twist on it, and pushed me out.
I literally couldn’t stop her if I tried, I could tell she had the power and skill to do anything she wanted to me and with that I was frogmarched out into the main office area, dick pointing forwards, my legs trembling in fear and my head do
wn, terrified of looking anyone in the eye.
I knew that some people in the office would be loving this, seeing me get my comeuppance.
I could hear cheers and jeers, catcalls and whistles, as I was marched around.
I felt Suzanne grab the back of my neck and lift my head upwards.
“Look at every single one of them,” she said. “Look at them and watch as they film you, mock you, laugh at your weedy body and tiny pin dick. Now stand up straight with your hands on your head.”
With that, Suzanne stopped walking me around and everyone in the office gathered around us in a circle.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, an excited, almost feverish atmosphere.
The looks on people’s faces were gleeful, they knew what was coming having already witnessed Peterson’s fate earlier that day.
“Now, everyone, this little – and you can see exactly why I am calling him little – loser was late today, and we all know that under my new regime this kind of behaviour will not be tolerated, don’t we?” Suzanne said, taking delight in slapping my dick as she talked.
She was alternating the slapping of my boner with spanking my bare bottom.
“Now, Peterson fell into line quickly, barely a protest from that sissy,” Suzanne said. “But this one, he actually tried to resist in my office just now, can you believe that? And for that he is going to get extra punishment, he is going to no longer be working as a salesperson on the road, he is going to be my personal assistant, doing my bidding around the office. He is going to be humiliated every single day, forced to perform the most degrading displays just for my amusement. Of course, he will also be there for you to expose, punish, and fondle at your will too. Remember what I said, I want an energised workforce. So if anyone wants to release some tension, and you think you want to push it the extra mile, call this little wimp over and let him have it!”
I gulped, feeling terrified, confused, and I guess even a little intrigued.
There was a roar of approval from the women.
“Make him dance for us!” One of them, a sexy, curvy forty year old admin officer called Nic called out.
This suggestion seemed to go down well as several others repeated the call. I wasn’t sure I could cope with this and looked at Suzanne, my eyes pleading with her to spare me.
No chance.
“You heard them, boy, shake that booty for us!” Suzanne slapped my ass and pushed my out into the centre of the circle.
The chants went up and everyone began clapping in time as I nervously began to dance.
“I said shake that little ass!” Suzanne said, clearly displeased with my efforts. “For God’s sake, get on the floor, on your hands and knees and get that thing popping like a little slut. Do it or you’ll regret it!”
I sensed she wasn’t kidding and got on my hands and knees and began shaking my bottom, flexing it up and down in time to the clapping.
The room was ablaze with cheers and whooping.
“Right girls, get stuck in to him,” Suzanne said.
And within seconds the women closed in on me and I could feel myself being grabbed, poked, jerked, wanked, pinched, spat on, nipple twisted, hair pulled, by horny women determined to humiliate and own me.
Within seconds I could feel myself cumming, my hot semen spirting out like a rocket onto the arm of Nic, the woman who had asked for the dance.
“You little gimp, only took a minute,” Nic said. “Now eat it! Eat your stringy cum off me right this second. Kath, film it, let’s have a record of what a cum eating sissy we’ve got in the office.”
Totally panicked, totally in the control of these women, I did what I told, licking up and swallowing every little bit of my explosion.
I had never felt so humiliated, so totally degraded.
“Good, good, well done, we’ll make a pet of you yet,” Suzanne said. “Now, get up and come with me.”
As I walked away from the frenzy, I couldn’t believe what had happened – it was the kind of thing I had fantasized about late at night, but to have it happen in reality was just surreal.
I didn’t know if I could cope with any more of that kind of thing.
I also couldn’t believe how Suzanne was able to rationalise it all to me, how calm she was, even how caring in a funny way.
Suzanne told me that I could work the rest of the day in her office, just sorting through various spreadsheets. The only catch was that I was to wear a pair of panties that she pulled out of her desk draw. They were bright pink, had a high cut on the thighs, and were scandalously tiny, even for my small dick.
At the end of the day, she put me over her lap and spanked me solidly for ten minutes, causing me to cry out in pain towards the end.
“Now, stand up, pull yourself together and go home for the day,” Suzanne said. “I think this might work out between us, and I know you need this job. I want you in early tomorrow, and I will be emailing you some instructions.”
I was exhausted, my bottom on fire, and I quietly put my clothes back on and left as quickly as I could, my head spinning at what had happened.
**
I guess you have been in this exact situation too, but there is nothing worse than walking down the street and feeling that unmistakable prang of pain that you just know for sure is being caused by a little tiny stone that has made its way into your shoe.
It’s such a dilemma and gnawing pain in the butt.
Do you stop, attempt to remove your shoe without your socket foot touching the potentially damp, dirty, or even wet ground?
Do you persevere with the pain and keep on trucking, the pain getting worse the further you walk – and what if you are nowhere near your destination?
Are there any other alternatives to the two afore listed possible solutions?
None that I can think of, and that’s why I always bite the bullet and remove my shoe.
I have become highly adept at balancing on one foot while I carefully place my removed shoe on a safe spot of the road or a nearby wall. I am then able to use my core strength to balance effectively while I locate the small stone that is causing me pain on my journey.
Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I believe it acts like a kind of metaphor for the itch that you just cannot scratch (which, yes, I am aware makes this me explaining one metaphor with another.)
Of course, it’s clear that this is quite a trivial situation in truth because after all, if your foot touches the floor and gets a bit damp then so what right?
But in my experience it was proving to be highly beneficial to admit to the truth of the situation and letting that take you where it takes you. The moral of the story being, if you feel a stone in your shoe, take it out and let yourself feel good.
Anyway, I walked over to my white kitchen unit that housed my snacks and cereals.
I opened the door and was struck by how smoothly it moved. Fair play to the landlord, he had paid the extra little bit required to add that touch of quality to the property.
I recalled when I moved in that he had explained at some length and with a great and almost tangible sense of pride that he had appeared on Homes Under The Hammer, a cult daytime property show where the show’s presenters followed the journey of a property that had been auctioned, purchased, renovated and then either sold or placed on the rental market. My landlord had developed something of a cult reputation on this show by appearing in excess of six times over the course of the last five years. He told me he was on first name terms with the presenters and had even gone out for a few beers and a bite to eat with them on a couple of occasions.
But what impressed me most was not the fact he was a cult figure of a cult daytime television show (a cult within a cult – hipsters would cream their pants at such rare exclusivity and niche appeal!) but that he was an honest landlord who put effort into his properties both in terms of the initial installation and then from the point of view of regular and consistent upkeep.
Of course, this meant that he wasn’t e
xactly giving his properties away on this competitive rental market.
Far from it, he actually charged slightly above the median level, but I didn’t mind as with finishing touches such as the cupboards in the bathroom having the slow close function, and the plastering work being so smooth an individual could eat a meal off it (a daft and unrealistic scenario, but you get my point).
Anyway, it was nice to have a nice place.
I always felt an attraction to the nicer things, a thrill from luxury if you will.
**
Ever had one of those damned annoying flu or cold hybrid illnesses that you just cannot shift for love nor money? You know the kind, you take the hot Lemplax extra strength powder drink or capsule (actually the drink is way more effective for what it is worth, it’s the hot water that helps believe it or not) and you take your multi vitamins and extra super cold boosting tablets but to no avail and by the time bed time rolls around again you feel as rough as you did first thing.
Well, I could feel one of those coming along at a most inopportune time and decided to strike first and take immediate action with a course of flu tablets, the afore mentioned Lemsip drink, and a hot water bottle (don’t laugh, it works!).
I knew I couldn’t afford to be laid up in bed so decided to nip this pesky ailment in the bud so to speak. Because as I stated just now, no one wants one of those colds that just won’t shift.
Anyway, I walked into the pharmacy, or chemist as it is called in the United Kingdom, and purchased my required hit list of crack items designed to kick this potential week ruining cold into touch.
There was a queue four customers deep, I guess it was that time of year when many people where coming down with illness, and I felt a bit annoyed at how slowly and ponderously the customer service assistant was moving from the front facing till area to the rear room to pick up the various assortment of medicines and cures.
Some people will tell you that big pharma has a lot to answer for, and you won’t hear too many complaints from me, but when it comes to zapping a cold it’s got to be a visit to the chemist, no matter how slow the staff are moving.