The day started fine, with the easy task of updating a few records to meet some new policies that had been introduced. I was happily sat at my desk, the plug filling me, as every now and again a very small amount of him bubbled out around it as I moved in my seat. I loved the feeling of having him in me at work; it kept my body buzzing lustfully through out the day. Just as my mind was drifting to naughtier thoughts the phone rang.
"Goey" spoke the stern female voice, "It's Samantha. Can we have a word in my office please?"
An invitation to your bosses' office is never a fun thing, but having had my mind suddenly pulled from my own fantasies set an extra level of nervousness off inside me.
I timidly knock on her office door.
"Come in" she answers, as if uninterested in my arrival. Hot air swamps me as I push the door open; her air conditioning is still broken. As I step in she smiles at me, "Goey please, take a seat. There's no need to worry I just wanted to see how you were getting on with the new system?"
We talk, but it's too hot, and my concentration wavers as the warmth of her room begins to drown me. I regret not wearing any knickers as I feel my own sweat seal me to her leather chair. It was going to make a noise when I got up as my skin unstuck itself -- it was inevitable, and yet -- the panic of the act began swirling around me, this was going to be embarrassing.
"Ok Goey, that's everything I wanted to ask," she concluded, giving me the big 'you can leave now' smile that all bosses seem to know. I decided I'd get up quickly, flee from the inevitable loud noise and hide in my own office. I got up - "Swqueeeech" went my ass as it separated itself from the chair. I bolted to the door fleeing from my embarrassment.
"Goey" came Samantha's stern voice behind me, causing me to freeze in my tracks, "What is that?" A cold flush encases me as I tense my cheeks -- my ass was empty! The butt-plug was not there! Panic fills me as my whole body shivers in terror as I turn around to look down at the chair I had departed from so quickly. And there, sat in the middle, stood my butt-plug. It's cosmic purple hidden by a swirl of white. I look at Samantha, not sure what to do expecting to see shock and horror in her eyes. But no, instead a big smile was spread across her lips.
"Bring it me," she demands, as if a teacher confiscating a child's toy.
I lift it off the chair, breaking it's suction. My mind has left me, hiding in fear from the actions that unfold before me. I place it on her desk. I don't feel like myself, I feel automated.
"Was this in your ass Goey?"
I nod at her.
"Let me see," orders Samantha, almost motherly.
I look at her; she can see the butt-plug, what else does see what to see? Does she-
But before I can finish my chain of thought she speaks "Your ass Goey, let me see your ass. You can bend over on the chair."
I should leave, run, scream no -- anything, but I don't. I am trapped in her authority. I kneel on the chair, my breasts rubbing against the back as I grip it with my hands.
"Go on" she commands, "Stick your bum out."
I push my rear back and as my cheeks part I can feel a strand of cum leak from my still gaping ass, I wince at the thought of her seeing it, knowing she will.
I hear her get up, her heels clanking across the floor as she approaches me. The office had a 'wear what you like' policy but she dressed impressively smart regardless.
She throws my skirt up my back exposing my bare bottom. She reaches down with a hand, and I feel her finger flick against my right cheek as she catches the hanging strand of cum.
She holds it up on her finger, "Boyfriends?" she asks.
I look back at her and nod. As if it was procedure she opens her mouth, puts her finger between her lips, and sucks the cum off.
"Okay," she says while kneeling behind me, "Let's see how much he shot up there."
She parts my cheeks and I blush deep crimson as she stares into my used asshole.
"Not a small chap is he?" she says approvingly, admiring the size of my gape.
I feel the cold metal of her glasses hit my cheeks as she presses her face between them; her wet tongue feels like cold fire as she pushes it deep into my ass. Her enthusiastic groans and tongue-flicks cause my eyes to widen in pleasure.
"Oh Goey, your ass taste so good!" I hear Samantha moan. She eats my ass passionately, I am a slave to her tongue as I feel her jaw widen as she pushes herself in as deep as possible.
"Your man taste really sweet as well, so -- let me taste all of him," she orders.
I look back over my shoulder in confusion, my mind still racing to catch up to what is happening.
"Go on," she barks, "push it out!"
I feel the point of her tongue pressing firmly under my asshole as I tense, squeezing the cum out from my ass. A small glob trickles down, pooling onto her tongue, before she swallows it, lapping it up like a cat.
"Goey you selfish little cow!" she shouts as her right hand crashes down on my butt causing me to yelp with shock, "How dare you give me so little off his cum! Now come on," she demands, while digging her hands firmly into my cheeks and spreading them painfully wide apart, "Push it out, all of it, fart his seed all over my fucking tongue!"
I close my eyes and force myself to empty his cum out of me, trying desperately not to break wind, but I fail. I feel air gush from me and my face glows crimson as my boyfriend's cum flies out of me, splattering all over her face. I pant in horror, ashamed of what I've just done -- as if I have failed her.
"Oh yeeeeeeeees!" she screams out victoriously as my man's cum clings onto her face, most of her view obscured as it covers her glasses. She stands up and removes her skirt hastily, "Well Goey, you sprayed my face so I guess it's only fair I return the favour -- so kneel on the floor like a good girl."
I slide off the chair, kneeling in front of it. I can see her silky smooth lower lips, as she lifts one leg to rest it on the chair behind me. She sinks 2 fingers easily into her soaking wet vagina while looking down at me, and begins to frantically fuck herself. I can hear her wetness squelching as she approaches her own orgasm. She flings her head back as she cums; her pussy throbs as a torrent of female ejaculate floods out of her. I flinch as it drenches my face, running down my neck and between my cleavage.
She walks casually back behind her desk and sits down, "That'll be all Goey" she calmly speaks, as if nothing has happened. Soaked in her wetness I stand, dazed with my own confusion, and slowly walk towards the door.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks, while holding up the butt-plug. She smiles lovingly at me as I reach for it, her face and glasses dripping with the cum from my ass as her vaginal juices dry on my skin.
The End.
Charlene Submits
Charlene was a happy woman. Dating a man who adored her, secure in her job, and still looking good in her forties. What else could she want?
Deep down, she knew that there was something missing. There was a longing, a craving that she couldn't put her finger on. She wasn't sure what it was...or what it meant. But it woke her up at night. She'd find herself staring at the ceiling, resisting the thoughts that entered her mind and wondering what it all meant. Finally, she would break down and masturbate--giving those cravings a voice...a room to grow inside her head--in an attempt to make herself tired enough to finally get sleep, to push those thoughts down and out of her head.
She and Peter would cook together, watch old comedies, and joke around. The relationship was great. The friendship was great. The sex was great. She loved that he doted on her and didn't act like most men she'd been with. Her release was most important to him. He'd tease and finger her, lick her pussy, and suck on her clit until she'd cum and cum again. He loved to watch her face when she exploded.
Other men had taken much different pleasures from her body. Her past had been filled with rude men, ones who would push her to her knees and expect to have their cocks sucked. She rarely obliged them, but she never liked it. It wasn't her choice; it was something that they had demanded and t
aken through intimidation, their size, their commands, or simply through the threat that a single mother couldn't be choosy about who she dated. But she hated every second of it. They were oafs, men of little imagination, and less respect.
Peter had been different from the beginning. He'd never asked for it; in fact, he'd stated that it wasn't "his thing" and left it at that. So she'd been relieved to learn that there would be no more clumsy but strong hands on her shoulders pushing her down, no morning demands of "suck my cock, Babe" as she was awakened by a semi flaccid penis being pushed between her lips as a wake up call. Instead Peter would wake her up by gently spreading her legs and licking her to two or three sleepy orgasms that would finally awake her fully until she would sit up, breathing heavily, and holding his head between her legs as she came again.
Peter pleased her in so many ways...but left that little itch un-scratched. And she'd tried--oh how she'd tried--to tell him about this other side of her. The side that wanted to serve. The side that craved being submissive in every way. The side that desperately wanted for someone to overcome her reticence for the rough and crude acts she'd been "forced" to do by others...and make her WANT to do them. To kneel. To be commanded. To be spanked. To be forced to cum on command. To worship his cock. To be taken roughly in the time and place of his choosing.
But was it Peter that she saw in her fantasies when she thought about these things? This bothered her. She thought it was him, but she also knew that he couldn't do it. He revered Charlene and placed her on a pedestal. Reddening her bottom was beyond the pale for him.
"My brother is coming" he'd mentioned off handedly while they were lying in bed one morning. She'd just had a series of small orgasms provided by his skilled tongue, his fingers, and finally, in the missionary position, his cock. Spent but wanting more, she was barely paying attention when he'd said it. It took a couple of minutes to process and finally she said, "A brother? What?"
"My twin. Richard's an asshole. I'm sorry, but I couldn't put him off. He won't be here long." She was alarmed by the pronouncement of his twin being an asshole, but didn't think more of it since she was still enjoying some lovely after effects of her orgasms.
Two weeks later, a cocksure, arrogant, and slightly intimidating Richard came into their lives. He was planning on staying for a week. He was in the spare bedroom if he was there, but he usually was gone. Dressed in black suits with red ties--like it was his uniform--he would appear perfectly coiffed and disappear for the night to return in the early morning hours. The few times he did hang around in the "common" areas of the house, he looked at her with a malevolence that frightened her. She was intimidated by his attitude. He seemed to know things. Things that he shouldn't know about her. She knew Peter would never tell him about their lives, about her. But Richard had an insight...a knowing to him. She felt like he was always looking through her and reading her most intimate thoughts. It scared her.
He spoke to her all the time. A slow, reassuring tone that did nothing to threaten her outwardly; the threat she felt was internal. He was polite, helpful, and even friendly, but in his words she felt a knowledge that he wanted her...that he would have her. An advance never came; he remained aloof. But her feelings pushed her to continually think of ways to keep the defenses up.
She hated him immediately.
He acted like he didn't care at all. This drove her dislike of him to new levels. He didn't deserve a woman like her. She almost wished he'd make a move so she could shoot him down.
Wait! Why was she thinking this way? How on earth had he gotten into her head so far that she was actually thinking about him touching her, despite the fact that her outward desire was to humiliate him by saying no? She had to admit that there was a feeling in her that made her keep thinking about the possibilities of time spent alone with him. It made her angry to think about it; she didn't want him in her head that way. She blushed visibly when she realized that not only was her mind telling her that she would have to fight harder to resist him, but that her body was also betraying her. She was feeling the effects of the attraction she secretly held for him. Her nipples strained against her blouse, her skin got goose pimples, and she felt herself moisten.
Late that night, Peter brought wine home. They'd finished two bottles and started on a third when the festivities had moved to the bedroom. Peter had slowly stripped her of her clothes. She'd found herself standing in nothing but her sexiest heels in front of the closet's full length mirror. Peter had caressed her breasts, kissed his way down her belly, and knelt in front of her while licking her. She'd never experienced this before. She felt like a goddess being worshiped by a subject on his knees. Her legs spread, she squatted on shaking knees just enough to put her sex closer to his awkwardly positioned head as he'd lapped at her pussy. The orgasm built in her until she dripped with her pleasure. Like a good lover, Peter lapped at her, catching every drop of her sweet nectar. He'd wrapped his arms around her upper legs and buttocks to steady her while he'd buried his face in her clenching pussy.
A finger intruded between her pussy lips. Working, pushing, and twisting, it found her g-spot and she exploded again. He held her up; there was no way he would let her fall. A beautiful, sweat slicked, orgasm-producing goddess stood in the spacious bedroom and exacted her tribute from a man who wanted nothing but the most he could get from her body. When her breathing calmed, she found that he was already on the bed, resting, satisfied that he had done wonderful things for her. She couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something melancholy in all this joy. Something was still missing from all this bliss.
She lay in the bed, awake for a little while, and must have drifted off to sleep. Some time later--she didn't know when--she awoke in a still house with his quiet breathing the only sound. She was thirsty, so she got up from the bed, still naked except for the heels which she noticed with amusement were still strapped to her pretty feet. The sexy shoes clicked on the hardwood floors, echoing through the quiet home.
The glow from the refrigerator bathed her body in a cool white light as she stood in front of the machine, peering into it. A bottle of water opened and was held to her lips. She drank deeply of the cool liquid and was about to return to the bedroom when she started. A strange noise frightened her and she turned quickly to see him standing in the kitchen behind her. The smile on his lips was one of amusement and interest. She'd forgotten that she was naked and he simply stood and enjoyed the view. She made no move to cover up; after all, he'd spent a half hour pleasuring her this very night. Why be modest?
"Very sexy, Kitten," he'd intoned when he finally spoke, "I'd love some of that." She could tell that he was in a naughty mood from the way he said it. If he was ready for more, then so was she.
"And how do you want it, Sir?"
"Ahhh, 'Sir' now is it? That's a good girl. I'm glad you're learning some respect for a man." He grinned wickedly in the low light, and moved towards her.
"Well, I have tried to tell you what it is I need," she answered with a small glimmer of hope that finally he was going to take a more dominant role.
His face hardened and softened at the same time. She could see the change in expression as his dominant side took hold. She could see the thoughts swirling behind gleaming eyes of what he might demand of her body. Alternately, his demeanor changed as if to say, "Dear, sweet girl. Finally, I am going to show you what I want from you..."
She was ready. She turned to face him full on, to show him that she wasn't afraid of what might come. She stood on sure feet, ready to embrace her fate.
Fear and excitement raced through her brain. "What will he ask of me?" she thought. "He has no experience with this and I have less than that."
His command came sharply, decisively. "Slut, on your knees."
She was shocked by his tone, by the word. "Where did that come from?" Without thinking though, she dropped to her knees and assumed the submissive pose that she always took in her fantasies, hoping that he would be pleased.
He sto
od over her. He reached down and took her chin in his hand and turned the face up to look at him. "From now on, Slut, you will address me as, 'Sir'. Do you understand?"
A voice that couldn't possibly be hers came from her mouth, "I do, Sir."
"And are there limits to what is mine?"
"No Sir."
"And is this something you crave, Slut?"
This time, she hesitated. This was it. Finally, she would admit to him that this is what she needed.
His annoyance came quickly. "Slut? Why are you taking so long to answer?"
"I needed to be sure, Sir."
"So your answer is...?"
"I crave it, Sir. I do. I need to be...this...thing. I want to be...submissive to you. I need to be treated like your toy, your possession. Yours to use as you see fit. Yours to command. I...need to give up and allow you to control my life."
"Excellent."
She fought tears. She'd finally said it. It had been given voice and now it was out there. Her need to submit to him hung on the air and consumed her thoughts. She felt brave for saying it; she felt smaller for offering her submission. She was now the little one in the relationship. He had been given all the power. No longer would she be placed on a pedestal. No longer would he worship her body and coax orgasms from her for her pleasure. Now, it would be for him. All for him.
The tears dried. It was done. She was his. And she was ready to embrace it.
He continued to look down at Charlie as if considering his first act. "What would make you mine?" he queried out loud. In answer to his own question--which he didn't expect her to answer anyway--he unzipped the fly on his shorts. "Show me how a good submissive worships her Dominant's cock."
Excitedly, she reached into his shorts and was surprised by the heft of his member. She pulled it carefully through the fly and admired its shape, its smell, its weight, and its length as if for the first time. She kept expecting him to stop her, as if it was a test for her first act as a submissive. She carefully stroked it, waiting to be told to stop so he could move on to something else that he actually enjoyed. Surprisingly, he didn't stop her but watched her carefully, surprised that she didn't immediately suck the head into her mouth.
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