second person pov

I’m first to wake up. I generally am. As I lie there, idly thinking, about the day ahead, the night before, and listening to you breathing heavily, deeply, snoring, sleeping beside me, I keep my breathing all relaxed and sleepy too.

I roll gently over and put my hand by your hip, as you sleep on your left side, and rest it there awhile, before making a pseudo little sleepy noise, running it briefly along your right buttock, and resting, still all casual, cupped around your cock, around your balls, seemingly not sexual in intent, no response from you, and I stay perfectly still there, making sure my breathing suggests nothing but sleep.

And so we lie.

I move my thumb, almost imperceptibly, over the smooth familiar skin of your cock, and, detecting no response, I, finding it harder to keep that nonchalant breathing thing going, move it again and then stay perfectly still. Just a flicker, the tiniest of responses, but, hell, the beam that spreads across my face makes me shine and at the base of my spine I feel a tingle that spreads up and oh, but it just makes me want to stretch on out, and I do. And then I wait.

I keep my hand so still in that place as I feel you come to life, no words, no acknowledgment that we’re even awake, just gently nudging, pushing up against my hand, becoming way more than a handful, before you turn around, and I do so in unison, so I am wrapped up and spooned and smiiiiiiling, with that cock, now wide-a-fucking-wake, nudging up at my curvy arse. But no eyes open, and maybe it’s a dream; I, on my side, back to you, lift up my leg, and your big, now fucking rock hard, cock sneaks up and sniffs at those open lips of mine, and nudges in its head for a tiny peek, before pulling back out again and rubbing up and down between my wet-wet aching lips.

I push my arse further up against you, as you tease around that opening, and I give a little moan, before turning around to meet you.

You push me onto my back and me, I’m not arguing, not one bit, eyes, mine, big, blue, wide open, watching you intently, looking up at your face, but you not looking into them at all… a man on a mission, and you nuzzle your way down my neck and nibble and gnaw at my breasts. You bite gently on a nipple, which rises to meet you, and I close my eyes and stroke your beautiful head, run my fingers through your hair, as my back arches feline-like, pushing my voluptuous breasts up and into your face. There’ll be marks for sure, and in the days that follow every time I look down to put on my bra I’ll smile like the pussy that got, or is about to get, the cream.

I am just mmmm-ing and wanting that goddamn dick of yours so much at this point, and when your hand moves down, my legs are open wide, desperate for your touch, your rub, up and down around my whole pussy, which, frankly, and at the risk of becoming appallingly clichéd, is on fucking fire. My rounded hips push up to meet your hand, as it snakes its way down, and then I close them just before you reach your goal and turn myself slightly around, just a little out of access. For the first time, you look up at me, taking your attention away from the task at hand, and shake your head like I’m some naughty school grrrl. I am jelly and you, not roughly, but firm for sure, make it clear who’s the boss. You steer my body back onto my back and push open my long legs; I don’t need persuading.

You open me up, put your face right down there and suck me like a goddamn juice-dripping peach. Just, wow. What you can do with your mouth should be bottled and sold on the open market, and you, my friend, would be a fucking millionaire. Taking in that whole area, somehow you manage to be nibbling at my clitoris while poking with that tongue, down, in, at exactly the spot which is burning to be poked.

So… if ever a woman were ripe for the picking, I would be that woman.

And then you stop. You stop and reach over to the dressing table and start scrabbling around while I watch and resist the temptation to ask what’s required.

You grab hold of some kind of lotion, hand cream maybe, and pop the lid, before straddling me and easing your way up my body so that you’re seated astride me, round about my waist, and I watch as you squirt cream all over my chest and into your own hand.

I see where this is going and let you rub that cream on me, massaging it into my breasts, while I scoop some of the lotion from your palm and take hold of your shaft, which has edged up my body a little and can all-but look me in the eye. I fucking love that feeling of your cock in my hand and I lean up a little to lick the tip of you, and you wink back at me, before smoothing the cream up and down. For a while we are both wrapped up in the task at hand, but we aren’t doing this as a beauty exercise, and slippy-slidey is the required result, so we stop and you push my ample breasts together, sliding your cock in between them, one hand guiding yourself. I take over and create a mock pussy cleavage, while you rest your other hand on the wall behind the bed. You roll the tip of your cock around my nipples and then slip back between. This continues for a few minutes, before you stop and in one swift movement are back between my legs and inside me with one almighty thrust.

And then we just go. For a few moments we just flail, not together, each to our own rhythm, until we fall into synchronicity. I tighten my muscles inside, wrapping you close and feeling every twitch as you pound in and out of me. In and out. I just fall into this and let my body do the talking, while I feel my head float away towards orgasm and my thoughts become purely of that moment and that feeling and of you and the overwhelming desire to have you come inside me.

And as you thrust harder, I cling on tighter and will you to cum, just come, and I hear your slight moan as it begins and this, plus the twitching and pulsing of your cock inside me, is enough to make me join you and cum along for the ride.

You collapse on top of me, both of us laughing, gently, smiling for sure, and there you stay, in this Sunday morning state, as we drift into a gentle nap.

You write that it is raining at the very moment I write you how very wet and even wetter the thought of you has made me. You cannot deny me? Do you know just how gladly I read the words you send me?

I picture you there inside, rain outside pouring down, cold and chilly. Do you enjoy a scented candle? I do, when the fragrance is mild, not overbearing. I am burning one, a ginger/citrus candle, hoping where you are you have one also, that secret spices join us before I begin to imagine where we left off…

You are sitting with your coffee, changed, clean and dry in fresh knickers. Not for long, I hope, my dearest. Will you let me in to see them? Are you in your dressing gown or have you dressed already? Oh, a blouse and jeans.

Please, I’m thinking, pleading with you in my mind, what will it take to get me to your knickers? I am scheming how I want to kiss, to lick, to suck what lies beneath those knickers, yet this time I am wondering how to get us there.

I kiss you on the lips and wrap my arms about you. I stroke your hair so gently, deeply down about your shoulders, stroking to give you that silky, tender feeling, lightly massaging your scalp… and I touch so lightly, down from your cheekbone to your jaw joint, going slowly just down behind your smile. Can you feel the light bristle of the tiny hairs? I wrap the backside of my finger underneath your jaw and draw it slowly to the center, toward your other ear, then back again as I slide my tongue along the inside of your lower lip, moist and slippery, gliding as I hope to glide soon elsewhere. Just then you open, you let me curl my tongue and reach up to line your upper lip before pressing inward, meeting with your tongue and probing deeper. Can you read my intentions, dearest, do you feel my heartbeat quicken?

You want to reach inside me with your tongue, I breathe deeply and draw you in. It is so pleasing just to let you roam there as I focus my attention on reaching down. My fingers wander slowly downward as I reach to stroke you back and forth beneath the buttons of your blouse. Lightly touching the skin above your breasts, back and forth, from side to side, tickling through your blouse and bra and squeezing, slowly touching round each lovely breast. Pausing. Circling down, I graze your skin, then over top the blouse to feel your nipples rise to greet me as I rub the insides of my palms against them, making gentle circles but barely moving. Barely kissing any longer, all attention on your nipples rising up to meet those circles I am making as I rotate the pressure around the centers of my palms. Those palms that massage your nipples, retreating slightly and then squeezing in with warmth, retreating, squeezing… cool then warm.

Up again I draw my fingers along the outsides, sneak them underneath your breasts and lift until on each side my middle and ring fingers hold a nipple resting on my fingertips. Then, spellbound, back and forth I guide your nipples each just with one fingertip, teasing each one up or sideways, down and round. Can you feel your nipples telegraph your clit yet?

If not, I’ll keep it up, I’ll take my mouth and plant my lips on one and next the other, blowing warmth upon them, then drawing in a breath and lightly biting through your clothing. I reach and take the outside of each breast, my knuckles resting on your ribcage, hands pushing gently upward, thumbs pressing slightly down to give you rhythmic pressure, pushing slowly as I suck each nipple straight through blouse and bra.

I like to touch you through your clothing, to make you feel somehow the inside of your bra could be your lover, to move your breasts enough inside it that they feel the changing pressure and changing textures rub you softly. I have made your bra my ally in my conspiracy. You are swaying slightly, shifting weight backward, forward, letting me guide your breasts along their journey. As I withdraw my breathing and my sucking from your nipples, there remains a trace of dampness, and I squeeze you roundly, right before I draw you to me. As we embrace, can you feel the firmness of my hardened nipples reaching for you through your bra and through your blouse?

And as I pull you to me with my left hand round behind your shoulders, I take my right hand; slide it down along the midline of your back, down, down, further down, hoping to send a quiet chill of warmth along your spine, till I meet your waistband. There I linger, sliding this way, sliding that. Gentle tickles along your backside, rising up to touch the inner curve, that special, sensual seat of pleasure inside the small of your back. Just as with your breasts, I draw circles along your back, tracing patterns, massaging in until I hit your waistband once again. Breathing in your ear, I whisper, “I would like to take this off you, please” you make me wait a moment just to wonder, but give a look with your eyes that says “go forward” as I see you smiling warmly, broadly, your eyes afire.

I unfasten the button and the zipper, and reach behind to rub that tender portion inside the curve, the magic spot that had been hiding underneath your waistband. I draw my circles and you lean in toward me, run my fingers up your spine and slowly down, this time continuing lower, down to touch your tailbone, to rub it gently as your hips begin to move. You tilt them towards me, then away, towards me, then away, and I raise my fingertips to rub you gently once again, that small curve of pleasure as you sway in toward me, back, toward me and again, back. I am hoping you are like me, that the gentle rubbing, the patterns of my fingertips will send signals to your clit as you rock forward, toward me, back and forward…

“Please, let me take this off you”, I plead again. No longer hesitating, you agree, you let me slip your clothing from you, though not your bra, not your knickers. I remove your blouse, lift it slowly from you, let it graze your skin as it departs, a whisper from this piece of clothing… So breathing, sucking on your nipple through your bra, I take it gently, nibbling lightly, looking up to see you, I tease the other nipple, squeezing just enough to make you sigh.

Beginning, my darling, we’re just beginning on our journey toward that rosy butterfly with folded wings. Can you feel those wings, don’t they wish to flutter?

You lie back, smiling as you lightly bite your lower lip, you let me slide those jeans away and pull them from you. I run my hands along your legs, up above your knees, slowly up your inner thighs. I see a damp spot, a good beginning. I must convince your knickers to join my efforts, to share their talents with you, baby. I take my courage from your smiles, from your yielding, from the tender opening of your thighs before me. I see that spot and want to touch it, but I refrain. I want to kiss it, but I hold back. I want to lick and suck and draw it to me, but shall wait until you open, reaching, needing…

So instead of all I wish for, I kiss along your inner thighs, slowly, with true love, I adore your softness, the glory of your inmost region. I adore the gateway to my destination, smooth and white, inviting. Tickling lightly, scratching ever so lightly, I just want to awaken the feelings, to get the tingles sparkling upward from where I kiss along the inside of your thighs… Do those tingles sparkle backwards, up along your backside also? I trace my fingers up and backwards as your thighs reach up, suggesting with my fingertips that the tingles travel backwards. Do you feel them reach to touch your tailbone? Does your tailbone tingle with anticipation? I want it all awake and happy. I want it all… to be sending signals to your clit, soft waves emerging out of nowhere, rising to your clit.

I watch you move your hips, I watch your belly rising up and undulating down, I watch the gliding of your knickers on you, the silky feeling they must impart, that cool and lovely feeling, gliding happily along your clit. Little chills as they rush past… I lean down and blow upon them. Little chills that tingle on your clit. Oh, your knickers almost lick you, don’t they, darling, as they glide along your clit?

I begin to kiss your tummy. I kiss all about your navel and take each hand and stroke you lightly through those knickers down along the crease, back up and down again. Each time you feel the fabric shift a bit and slide against your clit with softness. Your knickers dance with silky coolness quickly crossing on your clit, as I draw my fingers lightly downward, parting just above that lovely clit and reaching down along your lips. Then up I come with fabric rising oh so slightly, I start pressing lightly on the mound above your clit, pressing, pulling upward in firm but gentle circles so the fabric rises as I tug it up above your clit.

And so I alternate between the sets of motions. Tugging up, circling, you feel the fabric firm against you as it sweeps against your clit; then resuming down again, parting sides around your clit, pulling fabric down to let it loosen, I run my fingers along the sides, drawing, tracing down beneath your legs. I pause there, press against your perineum, then swirl up to feel your knickers kiss you as I tug and press against that mound above your clit, then down…

The lovely feelings sparkle brighter as I reach down lower, ever closer to that middle section, pausing to enjoy the dampness with my fingers, to bring some up… up, the dampened fabric flattens, it kisses cool and silky against your clit, down, I draw the fabric downward to tightly span you, pressing circles in that indentation where your thighs change, where they meet your splendor.

On both sides now I press the outside of your lips, through your knickers, squeeze them inward and let them roll above that clit. Massaging through your knickers, through your lips, I rub that clit I love so dearly, letting it strain as I release the tension. Again you feel the damp, cool fabric lying flat along your swelling clit.

Ahh, that is what I want to see. That swelling clit enjoy the coolness of the fabric kiss it, then I squeeze gently on those lips to give you pressure, release, to see your clit against your knickers, to see right through those transparent knickers, no longer damp, but outright wet and getting wetter.

Enjoy this pleasure, sweetheart. I repeat these motions for you, watch you rise and want to kiss that clit so badly! I want to lick it for you, I am almost certain you are wishing me to do it… but not quite yet. I reach along your inner thighs, they must not feel neglected, backward, down, and then with one finger rub your perineum in tiny circles, inching slowly upward with the circles, circling atop your clit directly for a moment I linger lovingly, and then continue upward.

With both hands, now, I massage that gorgeous mound atop your pelvic bone. I pull my fingers upward, pressing firmly, then slide them slightly down. Now your knickers are my ally fully. Each time I massage that mound up, I press into you slightly, and as I do this the dripping knickers draw themselves across your clit, sliding, dancing, thrilling you with pleasure. You are rocking now beneath me. I enjoy your rocking motion as I press, massage you tenderly, and watch your rising slowly with your rocking motions.

I cannot resist you any longer. I am growing jealous of those lucky knickers, darling. I grab them with my teeth and pull them toward me. I want to pull them tightly up along you. I want you feeling your own wetness. Do you feel it? Are you getting even wetter?

I must check, I slide my fingers down but still atop your knickers and linger this time on your rocking clit before I slide my middle finger softly inward, taking my forefinger to rub you just above your clit. Do you know that spot, my darling, that spot, the beginning of your clit just beneath the pelvic bone? I rub there gently back and forth with one finger, while you feel the other just beneath it; you can find my middle finger if your reach far enough for it, if you rock just right, you’ll feel it with your clit. You stretch, you rock, you reach out and down, yes, there you have it!

You are lovely at this moment. You look so lovely, not content, more like intent on all this pleasure. Intent on finding just those feelings that will make you happy. Well on your way, now, darling. How you thrill me!

I reposition myself downward further. I lick you through your knickers. I lick your clit and watch you reach for more. Beneath my mouth you feel warmness, then it’s cool again, and I blow softly on you to make it even cooler. Do you like that? “Uh huh” you mumble softly, as I kiss and suck your clit.

I want to find my way inside you oh so badly, but I want to find you through your knickers. I want to leave them on you, they are such a helpful ally, I want to leave them on you as I journey down. I suck your juices through them. I want to delve into you through them, to penetrate, to dive into you, and know your warmness, lap your juices. I massage that mound again with one hand as I suck your clit and probe beneath it with my tongue.

Can I find a way to get inside you through your knickers? I feed the fabric gently downward, licking the whole length of your clit from its base up to its tip, stopping at the tip a moment, tickling it through your knickers with my tongue, before plunging, sloping down, I want to plunge straight in you! I seek the way.

I push the fabric with me… can I make that saturated fabric stroke and kiss you from inside you? I keep pressing with my tongue, sliding up and sucking. Sucking all those juices, and reaching beneath your knickers gently with my fingers. With my fingers I reach just inside your lips, those wings are reaching outward, I reach inside to stroke them gently as I plunge my tongue down deeper through your knickers. The fabric pulls along your ass cheeks as I penetrate you through it, darling. It is firm against your ass cheeks, do you like that? Do you notice? Never mind, it is my tongue that you are craving, my plunging and my sucking on your clit.

Now I do wish at this moment you had worn those cotton knickers. I can just imagine at this moment that through my plunges and my pushes that delicate, thin fabric would tear around my tongue. I could reach my tongue full and deeply in you, stroke up from within your knickers, let you feel my tongue directly on your clit and sink again inside you…

But these lovely sheer nylon knickers will not tear. They barely stretch beneath my efforts, so at last I work my way around them, gently gliding my tongue between your rosy wings, up upon that gorgeous clit and smoothly down, I sink it in you. I am sucking, sucking, sucking as I plunge my tongue inside you. You are pressing up against me, rocking, pressing, moaning. Delightful moans and curses, now you need to feel those feelings keep on coming. You need to feel it deeper, stronger. I suck you harder, and feel your juices gush around me. My cheeks are drenched in gladness, as you press and grip me firmly, holding down my head and gripping tightly. Sucking deeply till I feel your waves receding. I kiss you gently, softly, once again on top your knickers.

Oh, my sweetheart, that’s exactly what I wanted when I looked into your eyes and kissed you softly. I had thought that on such a wet day, we should make it so much wetter still.

You call me into your office. I shut the door behind me and I see you dressed in a sharply lined suit jacket, drawn in tightly about your waist, a low-cut blouse that reveals your gorgeously plump cleavage, an asset that you use to your best advantage. You are wearing a short skirt which reveals your long, shapely legs. Finished with high heels, you are a sight to behold.

You tell me to sit. I sit down at the chair by your desk. I have a great view of your cleavage and you lean forward, knowing that it will cause me great difficulty to avoid gazing where I shouldn’t be. I squirm a little in my seat.

“Rich,” you say, “I’ve looked over the figures you emailed this morning. Frankly, I don’t think you’re going to make your target by year end. So, what am I to do with you?”

I gulp, knowing you’re probably going to give me a warning.

“I’m confident of my ability to make the target,” I respond. “I know I can perform this quarter, give me a chance to prove it.”

You regard me coolly.

“Hmm, I’d be taking a big risk on you Rich.”

Standing up, you slowly, languidly walk around your desk to my side – I can’t take my eyes off you. You look down on me, appraising me thoughtfully, but I’m not sure what’s going on behind your hard frown. Am I your prey, or am I going to get another chance – I cannot fathom.

“If I’m to take a risk on you, I need to be sure of your performance and, more importantly, your loyalty to me. Can I count on your loyalty?”

I look into your eyes and, amidst the coldness of your stare, I begin see a playful warmth. I stammer a response, “I’m willing to do whatever you tell me to.”

You smile broadly, “Good, I like the sound of that! Now, stand up.”

I stand at your command.

You drawl, “Obedience… I like that too… Now remove your jacket.”

I look at you, puzzled, but your eyes brook no delay.

“Do as I say!” You command.

I shrug off my suit jacket and drop it onto the chair. Having taken my jacket off, you say, “I need your total obedience and commitment to this team. On your knees!”

I’m a little stunned and confused at your command but I dutifully drop to my knees. Resting your arse on the desk you point a foot at me and gesture, “Kiss it… kiss me.”

Totally lost and bemused, not knowing if this was some cunning ruse to speed my departure or some other test, I begin to kiss your foot; first at the ankle and then over the strap of your shoes.

“Higher,” you command.

I begin kissing your ankle and shin, sheathed in sheer nylon. I can’t believe what I’m doing. Am I nuts? Just what the hell is going on here? Whatever is happening, I’m getting turned on and I can sense your triumph as you take pleasure in my obedience.

“More! Put some effort in boy!” You command.

I begin to kiss your feet and ankles fervently. I trace a line of kisses up your shin and you gesture with a flick of the leg, to encourage me higher. I kiss the globe of your knee, licking and nipping the nylon and then up your thigh. I get a rush of excitement and desire as you grip your skirt between your thumb and forefingers and hitch your skirt up higher, revealing the stocking tops and clips that bind them to the hidden suspender belt about your waist.

I can see the smoothest, softest skin of your inner thighs, your legs toned and supple. I’m melting at the thought of what this could be leading to but fearing that this is simply nothing more than a cruel game.

You drop a hand to the back of my head pushing it forward. I kiss your stockings from knee to the top, before opening my mouth and placing the tip of my tongue on your skin and gently licking your thighs. I lick higher and, releasing my head, you hitch your skirt higher and higher by the slightest of degrees, till I can peek at what I suddenly realise is your exposed vulva. I’d often imagined you in nothing but your underwear, so it was a delicious surprise to discover that you chose not to wear knickers. This discovery made my cock stiffen and begin to hammer against the fabric of my trousers.

You shuffle your bottom forward to the edge of the desk and swivel your hips to give me a better view and easier access to your pussy. It is so inviting, neatly trimmed dark hair above those sweet lips and the delicate hood of your clitoris. The barest trace of moisture about your labia give away how turned on you are and it makes me desperate to taste you.

I resist that temptation, however, wanting to make you wait. I nibble at the bare skin of your inner thighs. Nipping the skin and then licking it with the merest tip of my tongue, blowing my hot breath gently over your crotch. You fidget, enjoying my moves but impatient for your sex to be satiated by my caress. I move my head imperceptibly closer to your pussy and your breath pauses, waiting for my touch. I pause, just long enough to set a doubt in your mind, and then with one slow, languorous flick of my head I bring my mouth gently to your lips and kiss your vulva; a brush of my lips, the gentlest trace of my tongue on your clitoris. I back away an inch as you shudder with pleasure.

I return to your pussy with renewed vigour; my tongue lashes against your labia, tracing a slick line of saliva around and around. I slip my tongue between your lips and into your vagina, wet and hot. You gasp slightly and grip my head from behind, pushing, grinding my mouth against your sex.

My hands slide to your thighs and I push gently, Opening your legs wider and wider. My cock is begging for release, hammering against my fly.

You release your grip on my head. “It’s time to perform for me… Don’t disappoint!” You order.

I stand, my trousers bulging with my throbbing cock pushing for release. You quickly undo my belt, sliding your hands round my hips and pull my shirt out. Your hands feel the hardness of my stomach as I undo my fly and drop my trousers to the floor. You quickly hook your thumbs around the waistband of my pants and yank them down, my cock springing up and pointing towards you. You grab it in one of your perfectly manicured hands, pulling it towards you before reversing the stroke, rolling my foreskin back over to reveal the swelling tip of its glans. My cock pulses hard in response, glistening at the tip. You pull on it, bringing it closer to your delicious cunt.

With one hand on my cock, the other arm around my waist, your hand grasping a buttock, you guide my cock eagerly between your parted lips and into your vagina.

You feel good and as you gasp in delight, my head is momentarily dizzy as I revisit the moments that have led to this. How the fuck am I fucking you?!

My mind turns quickly to the task at hand. I certainly don’t want to disappoint you as I begin to think less in terms of end of year bonuses and more in terms of incremental benefits throughout the financial calendar.

I complete the act of penetration by thrusting the remaining inches of my cock deep into your pussy – you groan with delight as my shaft delves deeply into you. I corkscrew my hips, crunching my abdominals tight as I push my cock inwards and upwards to your sweetest spot. Your hands cling to my arse tightly, your scarlet varnished nails digging into my flesh like little daggers.

“Mmm, that’s good,” you say as my cock pumps into you. I vary the depth and angles of my thrusts, sometimes quick, sometimes shallow, sometimes slow, languid and deep. “Those figures you quoted this morning are looking more convincing as time goes on.”

You’re looking at my body, your eyes roving downwards to watch my hips and stomach move and my cock, slick with your juices, teasing, stretching and satisfying your greedy sex. I like your approval and seek to satisfy you fully.

Your hands release my buttocks, pushing me back slightly. My cock slips from you and you slip your bottom off the desk and you turn around.

You push your delightfully pert bottom into view, hitching your skirt about your waist and pushing you rear out.

“Get to it office boy!” You sternly shout, but the wicked glint in your eye, betrays your pleasure. I hold your waist and push my cock towards your vulva, tipping my weight off my heels and onto the balls of my feet. With a tight angle I guide my cock into your pussy and feel your muscles contracting around it.

I slide my hand up your back, over your hips and up to your breasts. I feel your hard nipples through the fabric of your bra. I cup your breasts in my hands as I begin to thrust deeply into you from behind.

Your sighs of pleasure are increasing in volume and in frequency. Your hips are grinding with each thrust, your pussy taking my cock whole with each stroke. I push harder with each stroke, the tip of my cock reaching the tightest, sweetest spot of your vagina. Each stroke becoming more urgent, I feel the excitement building in you. You groans are higher in pitch, longer in duration and your pussy is beginning to pulse as it is ravaged by my cock. You begin to shake a little, your breath heaving as you begin to orgasm. A wave of ecstasy engulfs you as I thrust harder. You yell at each thrust, your pussy gripping and releasing as your orgasm spreads and continues, from your cunt to your toes.

I’m groaning with each move now; the thrill of wanting to burst cum from my cock and into your beautiful body is taking over and my cock is throbbing hard inside your contracting vagina. Your hips grind furiously, your arse banging against my torso as my thrusts become deeper and longer.

I gasp hard, convulsing, surprised by the urgency of my orgasm. I spunk great globs of cum deep into your pussy. Each subsequent stroke oozes cum into your delightfully tight hole. I slow my pace as the stream of spunk lessens and I gasp for air.

“Mmm, I think you’re going to do fine,” you say as I withdraw my cock from your body, “so long as you keep that level of performance up.”

You turn your head to face me, smiling and I don’t think there’s an employee more grateful for their boss’s approval than me. I watch my cum slipping down your leg and your fingers slip downwards to trace the line. You seem pleased.

“Now, back to work,” you declare. “You need to finish those reports before the end of the day! After that, we’ll have another performance review and we’ll need to see how you fit in with the rest of the office, won’t we girls?”

Momentarily confused, I turn to follow her gaze to the door of her office. Watching from there, I see Claire, Penny and Dominique, the other women from my office. I realise from their mischievous smiles that they’ve been there awhile. It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve landed a job in probably the best office in the world.

The end…. for now.


I’d like to thank TheSometimesGoddess for proofreading my story – I’d been struggling to get the punctuation right and she has been most helpful in sorting me out. Her criticism has been really useful and positive, so I’d like to dedicate this story to her.

This is my first post. I appreciate any feedback and will see how it goes. Thank you and enjoy!


You would drive to my motel and call me when you get to the parking lot. I will come down and escort you inside and up to my room. Both of us will be feeling horny as hell and nervous as well. We will go into the living room area where we will begin talking about what we both love sexually. As you mention you like your neck to be nibbled I lean over and lightly begin to brush my lips up your neck. As you shudder I lightly scrape my teeth along your skin sending shivers down your spine. While I am going this I have one hand at the small of your back, under the cloths rubbing in small circles and the other lightly sliding down your other shoulder reaching up and curling in your hair. Your hands are kneading my chest, and grasping my back as moans of pleasure escape your lips.

My hand in the back slowly begins to work its way up, bringing your shirt with it until we work together and slide it over your head. I reach over and embrace you, removing your bra as I nibble and kiss my way down your neck, over your color bone, down your sternum and between your breasts as my hands firmly but gently caress and kneed them. My mouth continues down your stomach to your pants, where I slowly unbutton them and slide them off. It is at this point I realize you do not have any panties one. I moan with desire. Once they are off the nibbles begin again down your leg, excruciatingly slow, building desire. As I kiss lower and lower I slide my hands down until when I reach the top of your leg my hands are at firmly on your butt.

I kiss just to the side of your vagina, the place where it is warm, and it sends a wave of pleasure coursing over your body, but building a burning desire for more intimate contact. As I explore around your desire builds until finally you beg for me to like your innermost regions. I breath on them first, exhaling hot breath before my tongue begins to swirl around the outside of your labia, as it swells I move to the inside as you through your head back and grasp the cushions on the couch as your body shudders with the pure delight of your first orgasm.

As your body recovers your head jerks up to look at me, your eyes full of animalistic hunger and desire. You want flesh, and you want it now.

You sit up, ripping my shirt over my head and tossing it into the corner. Pushing me back onto the floor you clumsily begin to rip my pants off. Your body is so full of passion that it is maddening how they will not come off! Hastily I begin to help until the pants to are discarded and there, standing fully erect is the one thing that can help sate your appetite.

You clutch it with both hands as though it may slip away. Your loins are begging for it, but not yet. I made you mad with lust, now it is your turn.

Your lower your head, tossing your hair to the side to make sure I get a clear view as you put my head into your mouth. You do not go down far, just enough to swirl your tongue around the head. It is now my turn to shudder as I feel the sensations that make my knees weak and awakens a flock of butterflies in my stomach, all flying for the sheer pleasure of the feelings you are creating.

As you enjoy the sensations on your tongue you look up and relish the fact that I am oblivious to all but what you are doing in the small little part of my. You literally have all the control with your tongue and it is empowering. You continue with your mouth, now adding a stroke up and down my shaft with your hand. You go slowly but firmly because you want to savor it, you want to build my desire the way I built yours.

As you continue my hands reach down and continue to stroke your hair. The slide down your neck, sending the familiar tingling sensations down your body. I lean over you caressing your back and reaching around for your breasts. In your mouth you feel my pre cum, with the texture of honey and a pleasant saltiness that you have been waiting for. This is the sign, you think to yourself as you raise your head with an expectant smile on your face. The appetizer is over, now on to the main event…

You walk into the kitchen and stand in the middle of the floor. I look up slowly and I see a black blindfold draped over your little finger, held out to me at chest level. You are smiling slightly waiting for me to acknowledge you. It takes several seconds for me to process what I am seeing and then I look at you, I smile and nod.

Your smile widens and you say, “Give me 25 minutes!” and you are gone.

25 minutes, 1500 seconds, I busy myself cleaning the kitchen; I wander around picking up random items, moving them around.

I look at the clock again.

I am trying to be calm and patient, trying to suppress the passion mounting inside me. I know what you are doing upstairs, I have watched you prepare before, watched you prepare to taken. This, however, is a slightly different scenario, a different fantasy.

25 minutes, almost half an hour has passed, only 35 seconds remaining.

I smile as I see the stairway light turn off. I know you are ready.

I wait a bit longer, stretching the 25 minutes into 30, waiting as long as I can, wanting you to wonder, listening for my footsteps, your arousal increasing with each second I remain downstairs.

I can’t hold back any longer.

I walk slowly upstairs; I see all the lights are off, the upstairs in pitch black. As I mount the top of the stairs I see a soft light glowing in the bedroom. I round the corner and am met with a vision straight from my wildest dreams.

There is a single candle burning on the bedside table, casting just enough light to allow me to appreciate your loveliness. You are face down on the bed, totally naked, knees spread wide but tucked under you, your belly flat on your upper thighs. In this position the candle highlights your amazing round ass and your beautiful pussy. Your spread knees cause your ass cheeks to spread, drawing your pussy open.

I approach slowly, no words will be spoken, no familiarity suggested. You are wearing the blindfold; your arms are out in front of you holding onto the other side of the bed. You want to be used tonight; you want to be fucked, filled, and defiled.

You want an unknown and unseen cock in your ass and a stranger’s come filling you.

I can see your asshole clench involuntarily as you hear me approaching, I can see your pussy spasm slightly, juices already dripping down your leg and onto the sheets. I noticed the light silver chain across your back and know you have applied both nipple clamps.

A bottle of lube sits beside the candle. I slowly remove my clothes and position myself behind you; I bend down and extend my tongue, flicking your little rose bud. It clenches again and I hear you gasp. I lick around and around, slowly probing into your ass, your musky taste filling me.

The heat from your pussy is building; the wetness is flowing freely as you become more and more aroused. I will only stimulate your asshole tonight; no other part of your body will feel my touch. I push my tongue deeper into you, fucking your ass with my tongue. I can hear your gasps and feel your breathing become rapid and shallow.

I lube up my hand, making sure my fingers are covered. I stand up and touch your ass now, rubbing around the edges, circling left then right, pushing and probing. I now push my finger slowly into your ass. As deep as I can, slow, slow, allowing you to adjust to the size. Removing it entirely I rub around the edge again and back inside. I am fucking you with one finger, slowly and deeply.

I push a second finger into you. You cry out and push back against me. The time of the slow build is gone. I fuck you with two fingers, deep, very deep the way you like. Now I add a third as you buck against me. Your grunts come each time you push back against my hand, trying to get my fingers even deeper inside. I wonder how long you can go like this without coming but I know what you are waiting for.

I remove my fingers and your ass clenches rapidly, searching for something to fill it, something to stimulate it.

I squeeze more lube into my hand and apply it to my hard cock. I take a few seconds to stroke myself, watching your ass clench and your pussy spasm. I move forward to position my cock against your tight little hole and I hear you gasp, knowing I am going to fuck you, wanting it inside, deep inside. I push slowly allowing your ass to stretch to accommodate my cock, I move my hand to the chain on your back, waiting.

As the head of my cock pops into your ass you come, you always come immediately as I enter your ass. My cock is squeezed tightly as your orgasm overtakes you.

I pull slowly on the chain. The nipple clamps pull slowly and painfully from your nipples as you scream out. The clamps snap as they slip off entirely and I push my cock all the way into your ass.

You are still coming.

I wait, my cock deep in your ass, for the spasms to subside.

I start to move my cock around and you scream out, “Fuck me, oh god please fuck me!”

I am slamming into your ass now, stroke after stroke, I know I will not last long but I try to hold out until I can feel your next orgasm approaching.

Soon enough I hear you cry out, “I’m coming again!”

I let myself go and fill your ass with come, stroke after stroke, and spurt after spurt I unload inside you.

I pull out slowly now and watch your orgasm finish; your pussy gaping wide, juices dipping out. Your ass is still gaping, clenching rapidly, I can see my come dripping out and down your leg.

Without a word I leave the bedroom. I go downstairs and have a quick shower.

I walk slowly upstairs, the lights are on and you are in a cotton top and are reading a magazine.

You look at me and say, “Where have you been? I asked you to come up after 25 minutes!”

I smile, kiss you on the cheek, turn off my light and lie down, snuggled into the curve of your hip.

I can smell the mixture of lube, pussy, come and sweat on you and know you are content.

You gave me a pill with dinner, and I’m tired and too distracted by my work-day to question you. I eat and bathe and stumble through my bedtime routine; I clean up as usual without thinking much about it: legs and cunt smooth, vagina douched and ass and anus cleaned gently with gloved fingers and warm soapy water as you always insist. Teeth brushed, hair brushed out and long and loose, body smoothed with lotion. I pick up the collar, where you left it for me beside the sink and buckle it into place. Then I doze off in bed, naked, waiting for you to come out of the shower.

When I wake up, your voice in that deep, demanding tone calling my name, I’m chained.

Not just the collar, although I can feel it, fitted around the base of my throat. But other chains, rubbing against my skin with chill, chiming sounds. One is attached to the aching nubs of my nipples, the silvery metal of them biting solidly against the protrusions. A clamp for each breast, with a chain that splits in two to attach them; the other end of the y-shape tether is in your hand, though it’s slack and clinking.

Other chains dangle from your fingers, too, loose ends chiming; the attached ends? I shiver with apprehension to look down and see. One is on my clit – I should not be so surprised – and while the metal is edged with some soft material, the pressure is a sharp spike of pain when you move your hand; it’s also a low, pulsing pleasure as the beat of my heart forces blood through the trapped bundle of nerves.

The other chain is harder to comprehend; it sways between the two others, splitting in half to feed through loops attached to the clamps on my breasts; the weight is heavier than the other one connected to the clamps themselves. Then the two parts rejoin, feeding downwards through a similar loop on the clamp on my clitoris; from there, it disappears, hidden by the folds of labia on my naked cunt.

I’m kneeling astride your knees, having been posed apparently in my drugged sleep, and my hands are bound behind my back; I can feel a chain attached to the tight cuffs; it rubs cruelly between my buttocks, and I realize the other termination of the third chain. I look up at you, and almost fall forwards when you jerk slightly on the chains; the pain is briefly horrendous, but fades into such stimulation that I moan.

The chains are in one of your hands, and there is a remote in the other; I do not know what it operates. It could be the collar, the insidious collar that you fitted me with. It’s original design was for noisy pets, but this one you made yourself, and I hate it, but when you use it, I feel my body grow soft and my pussy grow slick, because you like to use it when I come. Like a trained beast, I can’t help but think of that white-hot stab of pain as part of pleasure. The last time you used it, I was bound beneath you, coming and screaming as the little vibrator pulsed in my ass and your cock pounded deeper inside me than I knew was possible.

Thinking about that, I squirm, and the chain between my legs rubs against tender flesh. The remote has to be for the collar, because there are no vibrators that I can feel; no tortuous ripples from within. I look back up at your face, and you’re grinning wickedly at me.

Your hand puts the remote on the bed beside you and gathers up a handful of my loose silvery hair; you tug harshly on it and on the chains as well and bring me forwards, my breasts against your thighs, although the slick fabric of your pants is almost as stimulating to the heavy bruised flesh as your skin.

You let go my hair and undo the fly of your pants, baring the heavy length of your cock; your hand then twists in my hair again, behind my head, pushing. I obey.

From this angle, it’s hard to take more than half of your thick rod in my mouth, but you are still pressing, and I gag once around you as you slide into my throat. Then you push the loose locks of my hair out of my eyes and peer down at me. “If I feel your teeth” you point out, “even once, I will make you regret it in bruises.”

I murmur obedience around you, working my tongue, trying to swallow. But I don’t realize how much of a challenge that is until you pick up something else from beside the bed – a long-handled riding-crop. The braided leather looks harsh, and when you bring it down across my backside I sob and wince away – which tugs on all the chains and make me moan and gag around you.

Then you do it again.

I don’t know how I avoid touching your beautiful cock with my teeth, but I do, and the tears that immediately roll down my face disappear into the curls of your hair that my lips are pressed against. I can’t pull away – the chains – so I can’t bob my head, slide you in and out to please you. I can only swallow, and hum, and arch my throat to snatch a breath through my nose, work my tongue on the veined sides of your shaft.

You whip me ten times.

By the end of it, my ass must look like a tic-tac-toe board of scarlet welts, and the rest of me is burning, and waves of pleasure-pain roll away from each clamp and I can feel the chain over my cunt sawing back and forth, wet with my liquor.

“Good little slave,” you murmur, and give a bit more slack, so I move my mouth up to the head of your cock and suck, my jaws aching with release. I tease the cap of you with my tongue, my lips, then descend and suck your balls into my mouth, one by one. When I release them, I look up at you, feeling you flex; your hard cock bobs against my face and I rub against it, eyes closing.

You push it back into my mouth, shove my head down, and then you reach for the remote. The collar arcs, sending a spike of agony through my head; the terminals are at the back of my neck, the nape, tender and sensitive. The shock makes my muscles lock, and as you slide out of my mouth, my teeth graze you – the merest bit – and you snarl in triumph.

“Ahh. Maybe you’re not such a good slave, after all,” you say, smiling, and slide out from beneath me. Still trembling with the collar’s effect, I flop forward, my face turned sideways, my ass in the air. With a minimum of fuss, you pass the ends of the chains between my knees, so they run down my body, though the third, with it’s attachments, still rises up to my tits before running back down. And with you behind me, the tension on the other chains seems to increase. The clamps on my breasts don’t mitigate the rough stimulation of the sheets against me, either.

You lean forwards and fit a gag into my lips, the soft one that makes it impossible to breathe through my mouth and muffles most of my noise. Your hand comes down hard on the welts on my ass, the spanking much more like a caress than the whip, but it still stings. You do it a few more times, jerking slightly on the chains between each blow, and then you stop.

I feel my wrist-shackles shift and the weight of them lessen, and the chain slithers down between my ass-cheeks and falls away. I hear it clink, and then I hear a buzz of metal. The noise makes no sense, and I am still trying to fathom it when I feel the pressure of a very large latex item being pressed into my slick cunt: a vibrator, I assume; despite my arousal and sopping folds, you have to push hard. I’m tight, always, and it’s nearly as big as you are. Chains bob against my folds and I realise the buzzing noise was the chain being threaded through the vibrator’s base.

Everything is connected to that chain.

I wait for the final intrusion: you’ve always liked putting a vibrator in my ass; and while I’ve never had anything larger than the three-inch bullet vibe in there, it always is so powerful. I am shocked to find I am looking forwards to it, anticipating the invasion, the hot painful insertion and the pleasure that comes after.

It’s not the vibrator that you slide in. Instead, the blunt, velvety head of your cock, hot and slick with some kind of oil, presses against the pucker of my nether flesh and then your hips jerk roughly, shoving you several inches deep into the tight, never-before-fucked depths of my ass. For a moment I’m grateful for the oil, until I realize it’s purpose is to make your way easier, not soothe my violated sphincter.

You tug the other chains up, between your hip and my buttocks, and they lay across the welted skin to where you have begun to rest your hands on the curve of my hip. Kneeling between my bent and splayed legs, with your cock raping a few inches of my anus and your hands gripping me tightly at the hip, you are the perfect height, the perfect angle to ravage me thus, and you do it, slowly at first then more and more roughly.

It’s agony; I haven’t breath enough to scream, and couldn’t, with the gag, but after a minute of slow, brutal thrusting I feel your balls bob against my cunt and the strength of your thighs pressed up against me and realize you’re hilted in my ass. Between the huge size of you and the dildo in my cunt, I feel indescribably spread; stretched out for use, for your pleasure.

Your pleasure, I remind myself. For certain it’s not mine.

I don’t want to enjoy it, the pain still too present and the threat of it’s return more likely a promise. But there’s a sense of near-completion, a little like when you are hilted in my wet pussy, that sense of fulfillment. This is darker and crueler and I am still hurting, but every slight movement tweaks the chain on my clit and tugs a little at the thing inserted in my slick sex, and that feels good. It wars with the rest. I am not able to move or speak or struggle, so every sensation is multiplied.

You lean over me in the extended pause, and let go a hip to reach for the remote on the bed, and I tense, waiting. The pain of your presence in my ass has ebbed, though I know the moment you move it will return; if you turn on the collar and thrust, I have no doubt I will black out in moments. I hear the start of the button clicking in the endless moment of frightened anticipation, and instead of the wash of pain, the lightning-strike, it’s a hum-throb-pulse of sheer pleasure: the vibe is on.

I didn’t know that the chain, threaded as it is through the base of the thing, would vibrate too, but it does. It does, against the painfully sensitive nub of my clit that is pinched outward by the clamp. You drop the remote and it rolls against my knee, and I feel you yank the tether on my breasts roughly.

The clamps slip off, and the shock of intense pleasure-pain hits me just as the vibe moves into a deeper, heavier tremor. And then you pull out of my ass, and thrust in again, and awash with too many sensations, I orgasm so intensely that the vibrator is half-shoved out of me and you groan as the grip of my muscles on your cock tightens like a hot velvet vice.

If it weren’t for the tight grip of your hands on my hips – the promised bruises – I’d have slumped flat on the bed, unable to keep my knees locked. But you hold me up, and you thrust again, the vibe being pressed in as you press in, the double fucking stirring the waves of pleasure higher. The keen throbbing of my breasts and nipples, the hot, rough violation of my ass by your oiled shaft, the deep pulsing of the vibe – it’s all too much sensation in the wake of orgasm, and while I know the juices of my pleasure are running slickly down the inside of my thigh, I can’t quite understand why the pain still pulses too. I’m wet, I think blankly in the wake of your next thrust. Why does it hurt when I’m so wet?

A few minutes of blank and thoughtless pleasure-pain, it seems, go by; thrust after thrust, your hands gripping as you shove deeply into my backdoor, your sounds of pleasure deep and guttural. It’s feeling good – so good I can’t quite fathom it – when you are in. But the motion rasps and burns and I wince away from your hips every time you jerk forwards. You pause, before the next thrust. I feel you bend sideways, without pulling out completely; oil again, poured on the conjunction of your shaft and my no-longer-virgin ass. The next slide is only a little better, but the one after?

I moan around the gag. Oh, god – it feels different, and amazing and after the burn of the fucking I’ve taken so far, the oil and your cock together are so damned good. I feel so replete when you’re balls-deep and the odd stimulation of your outward slide is like a pressure-wave, building. I’ve come before because of the vibe in my ass, and I know that those backdoor orgasms are slow and intense, but this is well beyond anything you’ve done to me before.

It’s hard to breathe in this position, and you are forcing more air out of my lungs with every rabid thrust. I shift, trying to lift myself a little, and you reach forward, dig your fingers through the collar and lift me. I can’t breathe at all now, with the tight strap yanked against my throat and the gag muffling my gasps. It’s all too much, the lack of air, the over-stimulation, the chain and clamp on my clit and the vibe in my pussy, the way you are solidly, relentlessly buggering me. I am close to panic and close to orgasm and it’s all got to happen at once or I might die.

I feel like I already am, the waves of sensation are so overwhelming.

My hands, dull dead things in this, useless and bound, flex and are sluggish, but I wrap them together in a praying gesture and lift them a little off the small of my back. My signal, my plea – I’ve never used it before.

You immediately let go of the collar, then catch my torso as I slump towards the bed, your arm under my ribs. Your other hand yanks the clamp off my clit and the chains fall in a pile beneath us, hanging from the vibe still pulsing in my cunt; in between that sudden excruciating release and the inrush of oxygen and the way your thrusts shorten and sharpen in my ass, I’m coming again, coming hard enough that my noise is loud even through the gag.

The release turns my vision pretty damned dark and if it weren’t for the way you start talking – telling me how hot that was, how proud you are of being the one to take all my cherries, how you’re going to come raping my ass and how good it felt with that ass coming while you fuck it, how you’re going to do that again and again – I think I would pass out. But the words hold my attention just long enough to feel your hips jerk, stutter, jerk hard against me, and then I feel you come.

My ass was always yours, but now you pull out of it this first time and I feel your hot semen follow, oozing, joining the tide of slick fluid I’ve already released, I feel like you’ve claimed it. I slump under you and you fall on me with your full weight, whispering in my ear as I drift in the aftermath.

“Good little slave,” you tell me. “You did well. So beautiful, baby.”

I’m boneless and weightless and covered in sweat and leaking come from cunt and ass; tears have dried on my cheeks and saliva in the corners of my mouth, around the gag. My ass is reddened with whip-marks and hand-prints, my hips – one bruised with fingers, one impressed purple with the marks of fingers and links of chain – and my breasts are mauve-tipped instead of rose. I’m one big fucking bruise inside, I’m sure, and the vibrator you shoved in my cunt is sending painful-sweet waves through all of it. I don’t feel beautiful, but I feel thoroughly fucked. Thoroughly enjoyed.

You release my wrists from the shackle, roll me over, tease the gag out of my mouth and smooth back my hair. The remote, bobbing near my thigh, you fish out of the tangle of sheets and hit a switch: the vibrator briefly goes into high gear – and I arch up in hopeless pleasure – before dying. You slide it out, leaving it wet and heavy on my belly.

I ignore it, staring at you while I can, while my eyes stay open. I’m tired, a limp, wrung-out tangle of sweat-and-come-soaked skin, and I am too used-up to argue. You lift me out of the bed, bridal-style and carry me into the bathroom.

“You did really well, my darling,” you murmur as you lower us into the warm, already-filled bathtub. I’m sitting upright with you behind me, breasts floating. The mirror wall ahead lets me see your face anyway. “We’ll have to do that again.”

I want to say no, maybe even I move my mouth to mime the word, but you just laugh. “Oh, no, babe, no ‘no’s from you. You’ll kneel for me again and I’ll rape your tight little ass. And you’ll come when I do.”

You’re probably right. You usually are.

“Someday you’ll beg me to do it,” you point out. “You’ll beg for me to rape your ass with my big cock, just like you beg to suck me when you used to hate it. Like you beg to have me spank you, like you plead with me to fuck you harder and harder. Remember? You didn’t think you’d beg for those things, did you?”

I shake my head, slowly, not sure if I’m disagreeing or agreeing. You bathe me, your fingers dipping into my slippery cunt, then into my abused ass. You pull them out again, then push them back in, more fingers in and shoving. With my legs up, propped on the edges of the tub and my wrists braceleted in marks from the cuffs, you toy with your new entrance. I feel you harden against me, your enjoyment of the novelty becoming obvious.

“Will you beg for me to fuck your ass, little slave?” You whisper in my ear, your chin bumping against the collar still tight around my neck. You lift my hips and settle your cock against the stretched-open pucker, and your fingers move upwards, stroking my over-sensitized clit. “Beg for it, babe. Beg me to rape you in the ass.”

“No” I gasp, but you start to pull me down, the hard wet flesh driving up, piercing me. The flash of pain and throb of pleasure blend and I know: I might not beg this time, but I will, in the end. I’ll kneel and hold my ass open and beg for it, some day, just because you want me to.

It all started when I had a conference to attend on the East Coast. I decided to take advantage of the fact that I was stateside and took a few extra days to spend with you. I hopped the flight down south and the entire flight I just fantasized about how the next few days would go.

When I first saw you standing at baggage looking all sexy as ever in your cargos and tight t-shirt, which just hugged the contours of your chest I just wanted to find an out of the way place and just do you right there. Of course you had other plans, and grabbed me for a quick hug and kiss. Then you picked up my bag in one hand and settled me into the crook of your other arm reaching down to caress my ass on the way to the car.

Little did I know you’d bought a new one… we walk up next to this sweet ’67 Camaro Coupe, painted electric blue with white stripes. My god the car alone almost made me cream. We continue the small talk until we got out on the highway and I just couldn’t resist any longer… I reach over and started just rubbing my hand up and down your cock through your pants with one hand. With my other I reach inside my dress and just started tweaking my nipples — first one side and then the next. I’d thought about this on the flight down and it was wonderful making it a reality. Just lightly stroking for a bit while you groan and try to keep your eyes on the road. I then can’t take it any longer and undo my seatbelt and scooted as close as I can with the bucket seats and undid your pants… slipping my hand inside as your cockhead twitches above the waistband. I then lean over and slowly slide my mouth over the head of your cock… swirling my tongue around the edge and then inching my way downward.

That causes a definite reaction, the car swerves a little until you get it back under control. You then decide to return the favor and slide one hand down my back gripping my ass cheeks as they peek out from under my short sundress. I’m sure anyone driving by us has an ideal view of both my head bobbing up and down on your cock, and my ass just barely covered by my thong and the edge of my dress. You start to slide my thong downward but can’t reach all the way because of your seatbelt, so I reach back and finish what you started all the while sliding my mouth up and down your rock hard cock.

Then you start to glide your fingers around my slit, just flicking my clit ever so gently. After making me squirm you slide one finger deep inside causing me to jump. Of course this makes your cock go even further down my throat which again causes the car to swerve. In the interests of safety, you take the next exit and start searching for a side road.

Once the car safely parked, you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out and then open my door. You swing my legs towards you and kneel between them, grabbing my ass with both hands you pull me to the edge of the seat. With my legs spread wide and up over your shoulders you lower your head between my thighs. Normally, you would take your time nibbling your way up one thigh and blowing lightly on my clit before moving down the other thigh, but I teased you too much earlier and now you’re in the mood for paybacks. Instead you push me backwards and spread my lips apart and just dive right in with your tongue. Almost fucking me with it, before sliding out and biting my clit over and over again. You slide first one finger in and then two stretching me in preparation for your thick cock. You’ve decided to make me beg and just keep them deep inside while you return to flicking and nibbling on my clit while I squirm and beg for more. Eventually you take pity on me and stand up pulling me with you. You slide the straps of my dress down and bend downward biting my nipples through the cloth, then you reach inside and pull them out exposing them to the summer breeze. I’m in such a daze, I just stand there clinging to you with your hands on my ass and your mouth on my nipples.

You then release them and take my hand guiding me as you walk me to the front of the car. Once we get to the hood you step behind me and continue to pull on my nipples while you grind your cock in between my ass cheeks pulling me against you. Then you push me forward so that my bare breasts are against the hood of the car and my ass is fully exposed. You start to rub your cock up against my slit, just teasing me with anticipation. With your other hand you grab my hair and tug my head backwards. Reaching down you plunge your tongue into my mouth and at the same time your cock enters my pussy in one deep stroke. You barely give me enough time to adjust to your thickness before sliding in and out again. I begin to cum, but this one isn’t for me, it’s for you and you aren’t stopping at all. You continue to fuck me hard and deep with one hand wrapped in my hair and the other grabbing my hip pulling me backwards urging me to take you deeper. All I can feel is the warmth of the car against my chest and you buried balls deep in my pussy. You plunge in and out with no care for my comfort; spreading my ass cheeks with both hands so you can see your cock going in and out, until finally you cum with one last thrust and stay deep inside. Collapsed on top of me pressing me against the hood of your new car. This allows me to finally come down from the continuous orgasm I’ve been riding for the last 10 minutes. My legs are like jelly and you have to help me back into the car. Hmmm… I can’t wait to see if the rest of my fantasies come true…

This story deals with forced feminization.. I’ve enjoyed this fetish ever since childhood.. You will find that current technology hasn’t quite caught up with the following story, but I’m hoping that will change.. This story is very long and shouldn’t be tackled all in one night.. I suggest downloading three or four pages at a time and then reading a few pages of it at bedtime.. I do hope you find it a good read..


The M&R Corporation looms above you like a Japanese movie monster. You step out of the taxi and pay the driver with the last few bills you have to your name. This job couldn’t have come at a better time. You do a quick double check to make sure you have all of your papers. The interviewer insisted that all forms of ID were required on your first day, including your social security card, birth certificate, passport … everything. It was also requested that you bring a health department verified drug test and a physical report with a clean bill of health. A deep breath fills your lungs. You feel more organized and together than you’ve ever been in your life.

The claustrophobic revolving door opens up into the expansive lobby. The morning sun shines through the front window causing the M&R logo to be silhouetted on the floor at your feet. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. A premonition perhaps? If so… then a premonition of what?

At the far end of the lobby is a reception booth. A cute secretary is sitting behind the desk talking on the phone. This place is really bustling. A herd of well-dressed businessmen brush past you and into an elevator alcove. You’re beginning to get excited. This job could really be a door opener for you.

You step up to the front desk.

The secretary looks up at you while talking on the phone and gives the universal hand gesture indicating she’ll be right with you. You use the opportunity to ogle her obvious attributes.

She is insanely cute, emphasized even more by the “office tease” outfit she’s bursting out of. Her white blouse is tight, stretched across breasts that are either fake or a divine gift. The shirt is buttoned (or rather unbuttoned) low enough to display an ample eyeful of cleavage and a hint of a lacy, red bra. The thread sticking out from where her top button used to be catches your attention as you devour her chest with your eyes.

She must have lost the button. She probably breathed in and shot the thing across the room.

The thought makes you smile. It feels good to smile and it helps to alleviate some of the nervousness that is pulsing through your entire body. You look up from the wonderful view to see that she’s smiling back at you. You feel the blush on your face.

“Hi. My name is Nikki. How may I make your day better?” Her voice is musical, the words a sing-song tease. A hundred sexy images flood through your head making your blush grow deeper.

“I’m Dave Phillips. I’m supposed to check in this morning.”

“Oh you’re the new secre…”

She giggles.

“I mean, data entry worker. Let me get the paperwork.”

She stands up and you see her short, black skirt that flares out into a pleated bottom that hits her mid-thigh. When she leans over to get papers out of the filing cabinet, you catch the briefest glimpse of a garter clasp and the smooth, creamy flesh above her stocking.

You feel the stir down below and bite your lip as a tent in your pants pops up. You press up against the desk hoping no one will notice.

What if someone DOES notice? What if she notices?

This is not the way you want your first day at work to be remembered. You try and concentrate on mundane elements of the desk: The marble top, the blinking phone, the M&R stationary stacked for guest use. The embarrassing protrusion begins to diminish and you allow yourself to let out the breath you were holding.

“Here you go, sweetie.”

She plops a large stack of papers in front of you and your eyes dart down to look at them, catching sight of her wonderful cleavage again. The embarrassing protrusion returns in full and you bite your lip, pressing tighter to the desk to hide it.

“Thank you,” you stammer. You drag your eyes up to hers and find she’s staring at you intently as if trying to tell you something with just her eyes. Has she seen your problem?

Her eyes dart back and forth across the room and then without warning she leans forward across the desk to get closer to you. Her arms on the desk make her cleavage bulge and you fight back a whimper as your eyes find them again.

“Read it carefully,” she says. Her voice is soft, her breath sweet and warm. Your mouth waters with desire and lust. Does this girl know what she’s doing? Does she realize how erotic she makes each and every word?

“I will.” The words barely make it out of your throat. All you can focus on is the memory of that glimpse of thigh. The feast of cleavage in front of your face. The smell of her breath, still lingering from her words. You clear your throat and try again.

“Thanks. I always read everything carefully.” You smile at her, pleased that you’ve managed to sound a little more in control. Your brain races trying to figure out how to get over to one of the chairs without her noticing your embarrassing ‘problem’.

“Would you please let them know that I’m here.” You smile again. That sounded very confident and self-assured. The disappointment in her eyes catches you by surprise, but at least she turns her attention to the phone. You quickly pick up the clipboard full of papers. Holding them in front of your crotch you hurry to one of the chairs and sit. Your face is on fire. Did anyone notice? You look around and breathe a sigh of relief that no one seems to be interested in you at all. Your eyes find the secretary. She’s talking into the phone again, giving you no attention. It’s only as she hangs up the phone that she finally gazes over at you and smiles. The smile doesn’t help the problem beneath the clipboard.

You flip to the last page of the contract and find the expected blank line for your signature. With a flourish you put your name on it. You stare at the words on the back page for another two or three minutes, giving the tent in your pants the opportunity to diminish. Nikki smiles as you hand her the contract, but the smile has a trace of sadness in it that seems out of place.

She covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand and whispers, “Welcome to the team. I called Miss Payne and told her you were here. She’s supposed to meet you at the elevators. I’d hurry if I were you. She REALLY doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

You mumble a thank you to Nikki and turn to go.

“Good luck on your first day, cutie,” she says, still in that hushed whisper. You turn to make your way to the elevator when you hear her mutter three more soft words. “You’ll need it.”

The woman standing in the elevator alcove does not look happy. Her outfit and demeanor are a striking contrast to the secretary you were dealing with only moments before. Her suit screams efficiency. The skirt dropping down onto her thigh, emphasizing the thin heeled designer boots. Her hair is pulled back. Her makeup understated and no nonsense. She is by no means unattractive, but you’d never approach this woman in a social setting for fear of losing some vital body part in the process.

“Who the hell are you?” she barks.

You hold out your hand and she glances down with disdain at the outstretched appendage.

“I’m Dave Phillips. I’m supposed to start work today.”

She stares at your hand until you put it down. Her eyes meet yours and you can only look into them for a second before you find yourself looking away uncomfortably.

“Well…you’re not what I expected. You hardly look like office girl material.” she growls.

You laugh. The sound that comes from you is not a comfortable sound. Even to your own ears it sounds strained and anxious. Your chuckle cuts off when you realize she’s not laughing with you. You start to speak but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand and just stares at you. Time passes slowly as she eyeballs you up and down. You get the distinct impression that she’s evaluating you. You smile and wait, feeling horribly uncomfortable. You don’t know exactly where to put your hands and end up crossing them tightly to your chest in what you know is a defensive stance. This woman makes you nervous. Her eyes devour every inch of you and then a smile touches the corner of her mouth. It is not a pleasant looking smile.

“Where’s your contract?” she demands. Before you can answer, she spies it in your hand and rips it away from you.

The woman flips the front page of the contract open and spies your signature on the back page. The humorless smile broadens on her lips and her eyes once again raise up to your face in that evaluating look.

“Looks like everything is in order,” she says, tucking the contract under one arm, “Let’s get you to where you need to be”. She pulls from her belt a long chain that has a key card connected to the end of it. She swipes the card in a slot by the elevator and almost immediately the bell dings and the doors open.

She ushers you inside and then swipes the card again on a similar slot under the floor buttons. She presses the “9″ button and the car instantly starts to rocket upward. Apparently the elevators require a key card to work. Excitement causes those stomach butterflies to flutter.

The elevator door opens and Miss Payne steps out.

“First door on the left,” she barks, “I’ll be there in a minute. There’s something I have to take care of first.” She disappears down the hallway.

Out of curiosity, you try pushing the lobby button in the elevator, but nothing happens. It takes a key card to change floors. A keycard you don’t have!

With no other choice, you step out of the elevator and make your way to the first door on the left.

You start to turn the knob, when a piercing scream erupts from the door across the hall.

You open the door that Miss Payne indicated to begin with and slip inside. The room is dismal, populated only with a table, a few chairs and several rows of lockers. The table is covered in magazines like Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Today’s Hairstyles and other such uninteresting items. There is a small, open door in the corner of the room, through which you can see a minuscule restroom. Before you have time to get your bearings, Miss Payne storms in behind you.

“This is the changing room. We have a very strict dress code here and to enforce that we insist that you keep your uniforms here. They are laundered in house and ensure that our employees are always presentable. Understood?”

You nod your head yes.

“Now before we continue, we need to discuss something. You have been hired for a position that we normally only hire pretty girls for. As I’m sure even you can understand, this puts us in an awkward position, since if we fire you we face accusations of discrimination. Yet the job you’ve been hired for requires you to work closely with the other girls and we don’t want any sexual tension in our work place.”

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“I can’t have ANY of our employees, be it you or the girls, distracted from work by sexual tension.” You don’t know exactly what to say. It feels like she’s mad at you for being male.

“I do believe we have a solution of sorts…”

She holds up a piece of nasty looking metal. You don’t know exactly what it is, but the sight of a tiny silver padlock dangling from the corner of it causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

“What is that?” you ask.

“Its a chastity belt. It’ll keep you and any…impulses…you might have under control. You’ll put it on every morning, and come ask me for the key after work. Well? Come on…I haven’t got all day. Drop your pants.”

For a moment you stand there unmoving. She’s got to be kidding. She can’t expect you to let her lock up your penis. Right?

Humiliation burns your cheeks as you remove your shoes, socks and then finally, your pants. You stand up, your hands covering your privates as best they can . She looks at you nonplussed.

“Those too,” she mumbles. It takes you a moment before you realize she means your underwear. You start to protest, but the anger that flashes in her eyes takes what little fight you have left. Every scrap of dignity departs as your undergarment joins the pile of clothing. She tosses you the odd-shaped garment and the color drains out of your face as you begin to slide it on. It fits like a thong with a long sleeve in the front for your equipment. The front of the material has what feels like a hard, metal plate sewn into the lining, while a tiny cloth strap slides between your butt cheeks to connect up to a small clasp on the band around your waist. With the garment in place, Miss Payne struts over and stands behind you. She fiddles with the clasp for a minute, ratcheting the thing back and forth. You feel the garment getting tighter and tighter and the sleeve that you tucked yourself into begins to compress and pull downward and back. You start to protest but the thought of her kneeling on your chest stifles any complaints. You feel your limp organ manipulated more and more until the sleeve is as tight as it could possible be, pointing your penis straight down toward the floor between your legs. It’s not quite painful, but it is horribly constricting and you wonder how you got yourself into this position. Finally she stops pulling and you hear a click of what can only be a locking mechanism. Your heart beats double duty as you look down and see the lack of equipment below. The front of the metal plate completely covers the sheath that your penis is held in. At a casual glance it looks like you’re wearing thong underwear and that you have absolutely no equipment inside of it. This does not make you feel any better about this situation.

“The second locker from the end is free. Put your clothes in it. There is a robe inside. Put it on and meet me at the elevator.” She bursts out the door like a tornado, leaving you staring at the lockers.

On the top of each locker a name is stenciled. You deduce that the name indicates who owns the locker. The name above the locker she told you to use must have been a girl who used to work here.

“Poor Rita. Miss Payne probably ate her.” Your chuckle sounds empty to your own ears.

You open the locker and see a robe hanging from one of the hooks. You put your clothes inside and pull out the pink satiny garment with a look of trepidation. She can’t possibly expect you to wear this thing. It’s the thought of standing here mostly naked in a chastity belt that gets you moving. Feeling horribly foolish, you slip the robe on and realize that you might as well take your shirt off as well. With the short sleeves and low cut front, the robe looks even more foolish with a button up shirt and tie underneath it. You hang up your shirt and slip the robe on again. This time you notice the monogrammed name on the chest: Rita.

“She didn’t even get to keep the robe when she left,” You tie the robe closed with the tiny pink string. Not that it makes you feel more modest. The almost see-through material only covers you down to the middle of your thigh, and the top is cut down below your breast bone. If all the girls around here wore these kinds of robes, it’s no wonder they make everyone wear chastity belts.

Miss Payne chuckles when she sees you.

“C’mon Rita,” she mocks as you step into the elevator. She swipes her card, pushes a button and the elevator rockets upward. “Before we continue your training, its company policy that all employees familiarize themselves with the products and services that M&R provides.” The elevator door opens and you find yourself in a tiny room with a large, odd looking table in the center. A pretty redheaded woman appears and suppresses a smirk at the sight of you. You can’t help but blush.

“Hi. I’m Penny,” the redheaded woman says. “welcome to the M&R family. You’ve been scheduled for a spa, massage and grooming session. Lucky for you, we have two attendants available. Which would make you more comfortable sweetie? Male or female?”

There’s no way in hell that you’re letting a guy see you in this ridiculous outfit, much less rub you down. Besides, every woman you have seen in this building so far has been absolutely stunning. If that trend continues, you might end up with a knock-out rubbing her hands all over you.

You mumble, “Female.” You’re a little worried that the women in front of you will think you’re a pervert, but neither one seems to care. Miss Payne has already stepped back into the elevator and as the doors slide shut she says, “Buzz me when it’s done.” Then the horrible woman is gone and the pretty redhead is leading you to the table.

“I’ll go get Samantha,” she says, “Take your robe off and lie on the table. She’ll be in shortly.” You wait for the woman to leave the room before stripping the garment off. The chastity belt leaves you feeling awfully exposed and embarrassed. You clamber up onto the table and lie face down with your head pointing through the hole at the head of the table. A pair of feet and shapely legs suddenly appears in your vision.

“Hi,” says a musical voice above you, “welcome to the team. I’m going to be giving you a combination massage/skin treatment session. She continues her spiel about what the massage entails and you take the opportunity to sneak a peek at her.

The first thing you notice, hell it’s hard not to notice, is that she’s barely wearing anything. Her breasts are huge, bursting out of a bikini top. Tight blue shorts hug her figure, emphasizing her tiny waist. Then you see her face and wonder if you died and went to heaven. Raven hair tickles her shoulders, her red-ruby lips gleaming against her darker skin. She looks as if she has some sort of Japanese ancestry, although you can’t recall having ever seen a Japanese girl with breasts this size before. You feel an instant throb inside the chastity belt and the horrible device constricts around your member keeping it tiny and limp. Maybe it IS a good idea to wear this thing. How embarrassing it would be to have this woman see how excited you got at just her appearance.

You feel a cool liquid pour onto your skin and then her soft, yet decidedly strong hands begin massaging your muscles. The liquid tingles as it gets worked into your pores almost to the point of discomfort, but the talented hands of Samantha distract more than enough. Her hands cover every inch of your body, even some places that cause you more than a little embarrassment. You flinch as her fingers slip into the crevice of your ass and work their way along the edges of your chastity belt. The tiny strap between your cheeks feels like virtually no protection from her and you squirm as her fingers slide behind the material to the deep recesses. What kind of massage is this?

Then her hands disappear and she instructs you to flip over. You’re both grateful and horribly humiliated by the chastity belt. You wonder if the girl is wearing one too. Without thinking about it, your eyes drift down to her crotch. You stare at it for a long minute, but can’t tell. With a sudden embarrassment, you realize where you’re staring and glance up at her face to see if she noticed. If the smirk on her lips doesn’t give you your answer, the wink does. You close your eyes quickly, cheeks flaming and heart-rate drumming up-tempo. She rubs down your front and you try with all your might not to dwell on how uncomfortable and self-conscious you are.

Your thoughts are diverted as you feel her hands caress the edge of your chastity belt again. As she rubs the lotion into your inner thighs, you feel your member betray you. It tries to spring to life, but the tight sleeve around it cuts the blood flow. It tries again, but to no effect except a borderline painful yearning between your legs. You’re both tremendously thankful for the thing (after all you don’t want a raging erection as this woman does her job) but at the same time horrified at the thought that you can’t get hard while wearing it. Her hands begin to deeply massage your thighs and for a third time your penis tries to swell. When it finds that it can’t, it spits a tiny spurt of built up semen. Your embarrassment knows no end, even though it appears that Samantha didn’t even notice. If she did, she shows no sign and only continues to massage the lotion (now mixed with your own liquid) into your legs. Despite your embarrassment, a dawning horror is filling your mind as well. There was no pleasure from the spurt between your legs, just an obvious release of useless fluid. Worse yet, the spurt seems to only encourage your member to WANT to expand. Your can feel your face glowing as you realize that you are more than a little horny.

After what seems like an eternity, her hands disappear. You’ve almost gone to sleep, prevented only by the tingling of the lotion that seems to have intensified with every passing second and the nonstop throbbing in your belt.

“Brace yourself,” Samantha says. Before you have a chance to ask what she means, a horrible cold pain surrounds your body. You can’t breathe and you gasp in a big mouthful of water. Then it’s over and you’re left lying on the table in a cold, shivering heap. Between your legs, your equipment shrivels from the shock. It might be your imagination but it almost feels like the chastity belt takes up the slack. You have a sinking suspicion that as your member shrunk, so did the sleeve holding it. You have a bad feeling that it’s not going to allow your equipment to go back to the size it was only moments ago.

Samantha begins to pat you dry and you notice that your skin feels oddly sensitive to the soft towel. You open your eyes and sit up. For a moment you can’t understand what happened. Your legs are completely hairless. So are your arms. For that matter your whole body from the neck down doesn’t have a scrap of hair on it. The lotion must have been some sort of hair removal product. Not only that but you’re now aware of the smell emanating from your pores. You still smell like the lotion. Samantha smiles at you, holding out your robe.

“What kind of lotion was that?” you ask, still stunned at the lack of body hair. She continues to pat you dry as she speaks. Your skin is so sensitive you can feel every fiber of the plush towel.

“It’s a patented M&R creation. Scented defoliation lotion. It doesn’t smell of chemicals because it’s made of all natural botanical ingredients and human pheromones. It has yet to cause an allergic reaction on a single person. It’s one of our most popular products. Miss Payne insists that the entire secretarial pool try it out immediately so that they can push the product on the phone.”

You start to explain to her that you’re not a secretary, but a data entry worker. Before you get a chance, she nudges you with an elbow.

“Wait till you see the reaction you get from the opposite sex. Those pheromones are lethal. Even you will be irresistible.”

Before you have a chance to question this statement, a chime sounds indicating that your session is finished. Appearing out of nowhere, Penny returns. You scramble into the satin robe, trying to cover your nakedness. The material caresses your overly sensitive skin, causing you to shiver.

Penny leads you through several intricate hallways, chattering away all the while. You barely hear her. Your smooth and sensitive skin causes you to be aware of your every movement. The satin robe caresses you with a slightly ticklish embrace. The swelling in your chastity belt is more than uncomfortable now, bordering on painful. The pain isn’t a deterrent to the throbbing thing between your legs, however. If anything it makes it more eager. You’re more than a little upset that they removed all your body hair, but you have to admit it does FEEL really good. At least your trapped member thinks so. You might not be able to change clothes at the gym for a while, but every movement you make is excruciatingly pleasant.

The chatty redhead ushers you into a small room with a big, nasty-looking chair in the middle. It reminds you of a dentist chair and you’re once again filled with a trepidation about being here.

“Have a seat,” Penny says, heading for the door. “They’ll be with you in a minute.”

She disappears and not knowing what else to do, you sit in the chair.

Mere seconds later, four people burst into the room. Three of them barely even acknowledge your existence and go straight to the counter behind you and dig through the drawers of grooming supplies. The fourth one stands over you. “Hi. I’m Naomi. Welcome to the team.”

“The first thing we need to do is whiten your teeth,” her voice is so perky it hurts your head. She goes to the counter, grabs a handful of stuff and returns over talking all the way.

“Do you drink coffee? I’ll bet you do. Soda maybe?” She squeezes a tube of green goo into a bit of plastic. “Doesn’t matter,” she has yet to let you answer, “In a few minutes you’re going to have a dazzling white smile. Now listen…this process is patented by this company. It’s crucial that you don’t move your mouth after your teeth are in this mold. It will halt the whitening process, but also the solution is not a good thing to swallow. We had one girl who was nauseous for the better part of a week, so keep your mouth still. Do you understand?”

You nod your head dumbfounded and before you’re fully aware of what’s happening, she’s positioning the piece of gooey plastic into your mouth. You feel your teeth snap into the groove, and the plastic mold hinges open, locking your jaw as open as it will go. She sticks a tube into your mouth that begins to siphon off the excess saliva.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” she says as if its no time at all. “Remember, don’t move your mouth if you can help it.” You watch her disappear out the door. You doubt you could move your mouth anyway. The mold has it locked all the way open and biting down against the horrible gooey plastic mold causes your teeth to feel soft.

A slightly effeminate guy appears in front of you next. He’s putting on the second of his clear protective gloves and you wonder with a little trepidation what he’s protecting his hands from.

“Well,” he says putting his gloved hands on his hips, “You’re going to be a bit of work aren’t you?” You glare at him, unable to talk because of the dental mold. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get you all fixed up.”

He pushes a lever on the chair, which causes you to slide backward. Your head is horizontal to the floor and he looms over you, holding what looks like a shower nozzle. He begins to hose down your hair, letting the water drain down into the floor beneath you. He holds your head as he massages shampoo into your hair. Out of the corner of your vision you can see one of the other women kneeling at your feet. You flinch as she touches your left one and begins attacking your nails with an Emory board. The other woman has rolled a cart of boxes over to your right hand side and is frantically digging through them.

“So listen sweetie,” the guy massaging your head says, “First we need to decide on a color. We’ve been asked to let you sample our dye process, but I’ll be nice this morning and let you have a choice in this. No one would be happy if we let you do anything too outrageous, but I’ll let you have a little fun. I know you can’t talk with that thing in your mouth, so just blink once for blond, twice for red, three times for chestnut or four for raven.”

You blink once, trying to comprehend what he just said to you. He wants to dye your hair? Then you realize you’ve blinked and answered his question.

“Blond, huh?” he says chuckling, “Well, you’ll be popular. At least once we get you all dolled up. You’ve really let your hygiene get a little out of control.”

You blink rapidly trying to get him to pay attention and stop what he’s doing, but he seems oblivious to your discomfort. You try talking, but it causes a nasty fluoride taste in your mouth and you quickly stop trying to make noise. It all sounded like vowels anyway. The guy rinses out your hair and begins to apply a horrible smelling application to it.

“We’ve got to bleach you,” he says, smearing in more horrible liquid. “Don’t worry, you won’t be a platinum, we’ll add some color back in.”

Your eyes water at the bleachy smell.

“We’re also going to need to give you some extensions. Your hair is WAY too short!”

The woman working on your toes begins to sand the bottom of your foot. The tickling causes you to squirm. Everyone seems unaware of your discomfort. The final woman has appeared in your line of vision and smiles down at you with a slightly condescending smile.

“You’ve really let those eyebrows get out of control, girlfriend,” she says with just the slightest suggestion of a neck roll thrown in. You’re trying to figure out what she means, when your eyes focus on the tweezers she brandishes only inches above your face. She begins attacking your brows and tears instantly well up in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Holy crap is it painful! But worst of all is the thought that has rocketed into your brain. She called you ‘girlfriend’.

They think you’re a girl!

What are they? Stupid? Just because you’re wearing the stupid robe and all your body hair has been washed away, these stupid twits think you’re a woman. If only they hadn’t put the horrible bleaching thing in your mouth. You want to give these stupid people a piece of your mind.

She seems to work on your left eyebrow forever. Hair after hair after hair painfully ripped away. Behind you, the bleach is being rinsed off. The guy mumbles to himself applying a different, bad smelling liquid which you can only assume is the hair color. There’s no sign of the woman who put the teeth whitening gel in your mouth, but the woman at your feet has moved upward and taken hold of your left hand.

“Your nails are horrible,” she says in between chews of her gum. “I’m gonna give you some fake ones. We have three kinds…so blink once if you want short, twice for medium and three times for the extra long ones.”

You can’t believe this is happening. They’re making you look like a girl! How did you end up in this situation? You wish you could say something. ANYTHING!

The woman working on your brows, plucks what feels like a dozen hairs in one pull and your eyes pour down tears. You blink them away as best you can, realizing only after you’ve done it that the woman took that as the answer to her question.

“Long it is,” she laughs. “I had mine this length for a few months, but it’s just so hard to do anything. I’m sure you’ll get used to them though.”

You try to pull your hand away from her, but she has it in a death grip and begins applying a sticky substance to each nail. The woman working on your brows finally stops, takes a deep breath and then plunges back in on the other one. Your whole forehead is aching from the process and your heart skips a beat as you think about how much she must have shaped the first one. It doesn’t feel like you have an eyebrow left.

You can certainly feel your hair though. Between the bleach and the dye it feels extra sensitive, not to mention the fact that the guy is pulling on big chunks of it. He must be fastening the attachments to it and you can only hope that they can be undone easily. If nothing else you can have them cut off. Hell after today maybe you’ll shave your head. Let’s see them mistake you for a girl then.

“What color nails ya’ want, honey?” the woman holding your hand asks. “We’ve got Naughty Red or School Girl Pink. Blink once or twice.”

“Can do,” she says presses hard on each fingertip as she applies the fake nails. You can’t wait till you get these women off of you just so you can rip the damn things back off again. Each one she puts on your hand makes it feel more and more alien.

The other woman finally stops attacking your brows and you feel a huge surge of relief as she sets the tweezers down. Maybe she didn’t pluck them as badly as you think she did. She comes back into your line of sight and this time carries something more horrifying than the tweezers.

She begins to rub the makeup all over your face and neck, leaving no spot untouched. You squirm around in protest, but it does no good. She proceeds to apply all manner of powders and liquids to your face. She paints your lips with a glossy color that matches your new nails. She goops black mascara all over your eyelashes. They’re so long that everytime you blink it feels like you create a gale of wind. She tints your cheeks with blush and practically pokes your eye out outlining your eye with liner.

“The good news is,” she says so sweetly that you want to punch her in the face, “this makeup is another state of the art M&R. It’s waterproof and lasts at least a month…sometimes two. It’ll save you hours everyday!”

You look up at her, eyes wide. You’re wearing makeup that won’t come off for a MONTH?

You have your eyes closed trying to deny the whole horrible situation when you feel the prick and burn in your left ear.

“I’m going to put some semi-permanent studs in your ears, all right sweetie?” she says poking something in your ear, “We’ll use some tweezers to remove them once you’re ready for bigger earrings, but for now…” you try to shake your head to get her to stop, but she easily pierces your other ear with the skill of a trained professional. “…we don’t want these healing back. Plus these little studs are ultra cute.”

“Good luck on your first day,” she says as she finishes inserting the other studded earring. “The first is always overwhelming. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

She disappears out the door, as the other woman finishes the nails on your right hand. She moves back between your legs and begins painting your toenails with a matching color. You’re uncomfortably aware that she has a very good view up your short, pink robe. You close your legs at the knees, trying to limit the view. As your smooth thighs rub together your locked away member tries to show its appreciation, but fails and squirts a small stream of goo into your closed thighs. Just when it seems like you can’t get anymore embarrassed, something like this happens. As long as you keep your legs closed though, hopefully the woman won’t notice.

The guy working on your hair finally stops tugging on it, and raises the chair back up to the sitting position. Your new, long locks drape down in front of your face with a wet smack. It comes down to the middle of your chest in deep waves that seem completely natural.

He begins to attack it with a comb and blow dryer, adding all kinds of sprays and mists to it. It begins to fluff out and tickle the sides of your face and the back of your neck. You wonder again, not for the first time, how the hell you ended up in this position.

The girl finishes your toes almost exactly as the guy steps back and turns the blow dryer off. They both wish you a great first day and then disappear out the door, leaving you alone with nothing more than a horrible tasting mouth piece and a disturbingly feminine feeling appearance.

As if on cue, the first woman comes back in and pulls the dental mold out of your mouth. She hands you a bottle of water and tells you to rinse and spit at least ten times. You’re unsure where to spit and it must show on your face.

“Don’t worry,” she laughs, “just spit right on the floor. Everything drains, and we hose it down between clients.”

You don’t need anymore instruction. Your mouth feels horrible and tastes worse. You swish the water around in your mouth and spit. It still tastes terrible. You rinse again.

“I’ve got another appointment sweetie,” she says as you fill your mouth for the third time. “You turned out gorgeous. The Managers are gonna be all over you. Good luck today.” Then she’s gone and you’re all alone.

After the thirteenth rinse your mouth feels better, but your spirits sink. You’ve just had a complete feminine make-over. They thought you were a girl when you walked in so you can only imagine what you look like now! You feel a desperate need to find a mirror and see what they’ve done to you. More importantly, you want to find a way downstairs to get your clothes and get the hell out of this crazy place!

You jump out of the chair, wincing at how delicate and sensitive your feet are. The woman sanded off all of your calluses and the wet tile floor causes them to tingle as if they were dipped in seltzer water. You’re uncomfortably aware of the goo that is slowly dripping down your thigh. Your penis throbs again in its restraint and you feel a desperate need for relief. Despite the indignities that have been thrust upon you, you’re beyond horny. The fact that there is nothing you can do about it only seems to make it more powerful. Another small squirt of goo gushes against your smooth thighs as they rub together. You’ve got to get the key to this horrible belt and then get out of here! But first, you’ve got to find a mirror and do damage control. You look around.

There are no mirrors.

You peer out the door and when you realize the hallway is empty, you make a break for it, rushing toward the elevators. There was a mirror on the wall in the elevator alcove. You just hope and pray no one sees you. Your new hair swishes across your face as you run and you curse under your breath at how ticklish it is.

You turn the corner and see the alcove in the distance. In seconds the end of the corridor rushes up to meet you and you find yourself face to face with a beautiful woman.


This can’t be possible.

The woman staring out at you from the ornate wall hanging can’t be you.

And yet every move you make is mimicked by the beautiful reflection. Pain rips through your groin as your chastity belt counteracts your natural impulse. It spits in protest adding to the growing stream of liquid creeping down your thigh. The vision in front of you looks like something out of a pinup magazine. The woman’s eyes dart back and forth as she seems to study you.

Long, flowing blonde locks. Shiny pink lips. Pale, creamy skin. Long perfect fingernails. There’s even a faint trace of a blush on her cheeks. You can’t quite tell if its makeup or real. The pink satin robe only emphasizes the image. Draped around your skinny frame, you look like a Playboy model right before the big reveal.

How the hell did they do this to you? You’re a guy, for chrissake. How could they turn you into this luscious image so easily.

The girl in front of you tilts her head and looks back at you quizzically. One of delicately manicured hands goes up to touch the zirconium stud in her ear. You can’t help it. A tiny grin appears on your face, echoing on hers. She has dazzling white teeth, a smile that would melt the polar ice caps. A naughty image of what you’d like to do to this woman passes through your mind, your dick throbs in its confines and suddenly terror fills you. They’ve turned you into every man’s wet dream and you’re standing alone in a hallway, with nothing more than the thin, tiny robe covering your body.

“Well…you turned out well,” a sardonic voice says behind you. You spin around already knowing who it is.

Miss Payne chuckles at the expression on your face.

“You’re looking more like M&R material all ready.” Before you can think of running, she approaches. She looms over you, a staggeringly powerful, dark-haired office Amazon. One of her hands goes to your cheek in what would be affection coming from anyone else. For her, the gesture oozes condescension. “You’re quite the pretty little thing. Love that blonde hair. And those nails. They don’t normally make them that long. You must have asked them for those, didn’t you?”

You glare at her, fury burning out of your eyes. SHE did this to you. She knew you were a guy and intentionally let everyone think you were a woman so they would make you look this way. You can barely contain your rage.

“You did this!” you growl. “You made them turn me into a girl!”

“Didn’t take much did it?” she chuckles, grabbing your cheeks and turning your head so she can examine your makeup. You grimace as she inspects you like a piece of meat. “Besides…you’ll fit in much better with the other secretaries this way.”

You jerk your head away from her grasp.

“You are an ungrateful, little bitch, you know that?” she spits at you. “We’ve just allowed you to try out a seven hundred dollar spa session and you’re upset because we’ve made you a little more presentable.”

“You’ve made me look like a joke!” you spit back.

“You didn’t need any help from us!” She grabs your arm and begins dragging you back toward the elevator. You resist, pulling back and digging your heels in until she begins to grind the bones of your wrist so hard that you cry out.

She swipes her card and turns to you while the two of you wait for the elevator to arrive.

“A word of advice, Rita. You’re on my bad list. You’d better watch your P’s and Q’s or I’m going to make your life here a living hell!”

“Excuse me Ma’am,” you stammer, “but that’s not my name…”

She moves like a lightning bolt, slamming you hard against the elevator doors. Her face hovers only inches from yours, her eyes burning with fury.

“First of all,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper, “don’t EVER correct me!”

You whimper as she squeezes your arms so hard that you seriously doubt you’ll be able to make a fist for the rest of the day.

“And second of all…” her mouth goes right up to your ear, the words so soft that you can barely hear them. “…what is the name on your robe…”

She squeezes again and pain shoots through your arms.

She twists your arm so hard that you sob out the answer.

“Rita,” you whimper.

“And what is the name on your locker?” she asks in that same barely audible voice. Her hand slides under the robe against the bare skin. Like a snake it pinches your ass so hard that it makes you jump.

“…Rita…” you say softly.

“You’re not quite as dumb as you look,” she snarls. You try to struggle out of the woman’s grip, but she has you pinned. The woman is strong and seems to be holding you without exerting any effort at all.

“So your name is…” She squeezes your arm even harder than you thought possible. Yet still you hold back. You clench your teeth against the pain. She growls at your stubbornness and slams you against the elevator door. Your head hits it and the room starts to spin. She slams you again and the world takes on a surreal quality. “Say your name bitch…” she growls in your ear.

“…Rita…” you mutter reluctantly.

“That’s a good girl,” Miss Payne says, her evil grin wrapping all the way around her head.

She releases the death grip on your arm but keeps you pinned against the elevator door. You feel her hand on the backside of your upper thigh and the tenderness of it against your smooth skin causes goose flesh to break out on your skin. What is she doing?

The hand creeps upward tracing the curve of your rear. Your tiny, shrunken cock tries to respond and the unrelenting belt stops it. Even as it happens you can’t believe how easily your body has betrayed you. This horrible woman has turned you on with a single caress of her hand. You feel her touch snake down between your legs.

“You like this, don’t you, Rita. You’re all wet.” Your body betrays you again by spurting another unsatisfying burst down onto her fingers.

She presses her body up against yours from behind, her hand tracing the curve of your butt, spreading the sticky liquid on your skin. Her lips practically touch your ear.

“Tell me your name again,” she whispers seductively, her voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up. She takes your ear lobe between her lips and bites. Pain and pleasure fill your senses.

“Rita ,” you mumble unable to stop the pleasure radiating through your body from her gentle caress. It’s not just your trapped penis that’s throbbing now…it’s your whole body.

“A stupid name, fit for a stupid girl,” she mutters as she releases her death grip on you. The elevator doors slide open and you stagger through them. She strides in and swipes her card as you try to wedge yourself as far into the corner of the car as possible. The doors shut with a scary finality and the elevator begins to descend.

You follow Miss Payne as she leads you back down the hallway to the break room. The door shuts and you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally! You can change out of this despicable, pink robe and back into your normal clothes. Maybe now you can figure out a way to undo the atrocities this woman has done to you.

You hurry over to the locker. Your long, blonde hair swishes into your face and tickles the back of your neck. The smooth skin of your thighs tingles as your legs brush against each other. Every move you make seems to emphasize the changes forced upon you.

You fumble with the latch on the locker. The horrible, pink nails prevent you from doing the simplest of tasks. Even opening your locker takes the utmost concentration and dexterity.

Finally you wiggle it open.

Your clothes aren’t there.

You look up at the name to double check that you’ve opened the right one. The locker reads: Rita.

Your clothes are gone. In their place sits a shrink-wrapped package. Did they dry clean your clothes? You glance back at Miss Payne. She seems completely oblivious to you, all of her attention focused on one of her short-cropped nails. Without looking up she mutters, “Put your clothes on, girl. I don’t have all day!”

A bad feeling settles into the pit of your stomach as you open the plastic package in your locker. You suspect that you already know what this is.

Your suspicions are confirmed. This bitch expects you to wear the same outfit that the secretary downstairs has on!

You stare down at the disturbing garments that you’re expected to wear. Your brain seems to have gone into hiding, not wanting anything to do with your current situation.

Miss Payne rolls her eyes theatrically.

“Jesus,” she quips, “It’s like you’ve never gotten dressed before.”

She walks over to you and snatches the package out of your hands.

“Take your robe off.”

Sheepishly, you slip the robe off your shoulders and hang it on the hook in your locker. You honestly can’t remember having been more embarrassed than this. Your skin glows from the lotion of the massage, emphasized by the lack of even a single hair. You cover your asexual crotch with your hands as if you had any modesty left.

She pulls out the first item in the bag and holds it up. You shiver.

“Some girls don’t need this,” she says to you, wrapping the waist cincher around your middle and fastening it in the back, “but you need the extra shaping.”

You feel the breath get forcibly pushed out of you as she yanks hard at the cords behind your back. She pulls again and you almost topple over, stopping yourself only by grabbing onto the table. Again she pulls and you drag the table a few inches trying to not fall over.

You can’t breathe.

She yanks one more time and you get light headed. You try to take a deep breath and fail. Try again and start to panic. Then a tiny gasp of air gets through. Then another. Your heart-rate begins to calm as you realize that you can breathe if you take small, gaspy breaths. Standing up straight seems to help, but even then you don’t know how she expects you to wear this horrible garment. You still feel light headed and your midsection aches at the constriction. You look down at the horrible thing and see that it’s pulled your waist in dramatically. It makes you look very curvy, emphasizing your rounded ‘girlish’ hips.

“That’ll have to do for now,” she says, “I expect to take another inch out next week, so watch your diet.”

You try to gasp an objection, but Miss Payne ignores your gasping and digs out the next item in the bag. You shake your head in horror. This can’t be happening.

She pushes your arms through the straps and fastens it in back. The lacy red bra adheres to your chest as if it has suction cups in the front.

“This is another M & R patent,” she says turning you around to face her. She sticks a finger between your skin and the center of the bra. She fiddles around in there for a moment and you feel a sudden horrible suction on your chest.

“This thing is made for girls like you, Rita.”

The cups seem to be inflating. The suction is pushing your chest muscles together into a tiny line of cleavage, even as the expanding cups continue to grow. You stare up at Miss Payne in horror. She’s giving you breasts!

“So what do you think?” she asks you, smirking her horrible smirk, “That’s about an A cup. Want bigger ones?”

You shake your head frantically. She laughs.

“The guys all like ‘em big, Rita. But I’ll let you find that out on your own.”

You stare down at the tiny, but undisguisable breasts jutting off of your chest. Your chest is bound so tightly that the cleavage line down the center of your chest looks completely natural.

You shake your head miserably, unable to stop seeing the tiny mounds that peek out of the top of the garment. Unable to help yourself, your hands find the new objects that jut out on your chest. They even feel real.

“Expandable gel,” the horrible woman says in response to your unasked question, “Not much we can do with those tiny titties of yours, but maybe if you’re a good girl, M & R will buy you a bigger, REAL pair.”

You gaze at her in disbelief. Oh GOD! You stand up straight, which helps to alleviate some of the weight your chest now carries. Your new A-cup breasts jut out in front of you. Worse the satiny material has caused your nipples to harden. They poke through the front fabric of the material as if trying to cut through it.

“You are gonna be REAL popular, Rita.” She chuckles and you feel your blood run cold.

You’re still boggling over your new chest as she pulls out a lacy, black garter belt and wraps it around your waist. It sits atop your cinched in waist as if it was meant to go there. The straps dangle against your thighs, with a slightly pleasant, tickly sensation. Your encased manhood offers another throb and squirt of encouragement. You feel an increasingly desperate need to go relieve yourself. How can you be this wet between your legs and not be getting any pleasure from the emission? You’ve got to get this belt off!

Miss Payne is pulling little half-egg shaped containers out of the plastic bag and setting them on the table.

“I’ll let you choose your stockings. After all, that’s a very personal decision for a girl.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. She’s enjoying this. She’s getting off on turning you into a prettier and prettier woman. You dread where this is going. But there doesn’t seem to be much alternative.

You look at the eggs, trying to figure out which kind of stockings will be the least offensive.

You open the egg marked ‘sheer’ and pull out the silky material.

“There are punishments for torn stockings, bitch,” Miss Payne growls behind you, “So I’d be careful if I were you. Unless you WANT to be punished.” This causes a shiver up your spine. You look again at the thin material and think that you possibly made a mistake. You’re not sure you can put these on, especially with the long, pink nails. Beside you, Miss Payne clears her throat. You quickly plop down on a chair and begin to work a stocking up your leg.

Miss Payne gives you an exasperated look.

“Bunch them up and then roll them up your legs, you twit,” she growls. You start over trying to do what she said and manage to get the silky thing onto your leg. It takes you a few seconds to figure out how to connect the garter straps, but finally you get the top of stockings secured with the clasp. The second one goes on quicker.

You stand up, proud of yourself for not having ripped the material. Miss Payne does not seem impressed. She just digs through the bag for whatever degrading article of clothing that is next. You take the opportunity to look down at your legs.

The stockings turn your smooth legs into an amazingly sexy feature. The material clings to you like a second skin, giving your legs a longer, more sleek look. The straps on the garter belt are pulled tight against your thighs, emphasizing the femininity that wraps your body.

Then you see the panties that your tormenter has withdrawn from the bag and you silently wish for death.

“What color do you want, Rita?” she asks, holding each one up for you to see, “Slutty RED, hot PINK, or BLACK satin?” She grins at you maliciously as you stare at the thin fragments of fabric in her hands.

You slide the lacy, pink panties up your legs, shivering as the soft material caresses the sheer stockings. They’re not even fully on, before another pleasure less burst of liquid escapes the chastity belt. The underwear catches the release and you feel the icky goo soak into the fabric and press against your legs. At least its not going to drip down your thigh now.

The panties have ruffles around the leg holes, which tickle your inner thighs with every move you make. The rest of the garment is streamlined, hugging your new curves like a layer of skin. It covers the infernal chastity belt completely, the back clinging to the crack of your ass as if it were holding on for dear life.

Miss Payne stands back and looks at you, as if she’s appraising a piece of meat.

“You are a knockout, Rita,” she says, “Guys are gonna kill to get into your panties.”

You bow your head in shame. You have a bad feeling that she’s right. Even without a mirror, you can tell that your figure is to die for.

“Luckily you’re wearing your panties outside of the garter belt. That way they’re…easily removable.”

You shiver. The idea of wearing frilly underwear that’s easy to take off, doesn’t seem to be a reassuring thought right at this moment.

She strides over to you and you shrink away from her, but the room is small that there’s really no where to go. She presses you up against the locker. Her body is so tight against you that you can feel the warmth of her skin through her suit.

“You are gonna be one hot bitch,” she says, her face only inches from yours. One of her hands touches your right breast and then slowly travels down your body until its between your legs. Her mouth goes to the side of your face and her lips press against your skin. “You like this, don’t you?” she whispers into your ear. You shake your head, “Your panties say differently, Rita. You’re all wet.”

Her middle finger begins to rub your crotch through the silky material. Her hand slides further between your legs, her fingers finding the back of the belt. They make tight little circles on the sensitive spot between where your cock is now confined and where your ass begins. Your whole body tingles. You arch your back, unable to help yourself. Your new breasts press against hers.

Her finger moves faster between your legs and you’re both horrified and relieved to feel a sexual climax nearing. Your thighs clamp around her hand, begging her without words to keep going.

“Now tell me the truth,” she whispers, letting her tongue tickle your ear, “Do you like this?”

“Yes…” you moan softly. You’re so close to orgasm that you can feel it in every molecule of your body.

“You like being dressed like this?” she asks. Her other hand has moved around behind you and is squeezing your left ass cheek, the nails digging almost painfully into your flesh. You barely notice. The hand between your legs has your full attention. The word escapes your lips without a single thought.


“You like what I’m doing to you” she whispers. Again you answer, if only to keep her finger moving.


“You like being a girl, don’t you?”

The orgasm builds to a peak and you moan the word loudly.


Then liquid spurts out onto her finger and into your frilly pink panties. There is no pleasure, no sense of satisfaction. Only a sticky gooey mess. If anything, you’re hornier now than you were only a minute ago. Her hand trails out from between your legs with a slimy hairline stream still connected to it. You want to scream with frustration. You’re hornier than ever. That horrible chastity belt denied you any pleasure. In fact, the orgasm only seemed to intensify your wantonness. You look at Miss Payne with pleading eyes.

“Please…” you whimper “Please take the belt off…”

She puts a finger to your lips, silencing your begging. She traces your painted lips with the finger and you realize she’s rubbing your own cum on your mouth. You pull your head away and she laughs.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” She pushes away from you and heads back to the table and the dreaded uniform bag. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can still taste the residual saltiness of your own juices on your lips.

“If you’re a good girl, I might let you out of that belt after lunch,” she says pulling a white shirt out of the bag and handing it to you, “If you’re a bad girl, you can wear the thing for a week for all I care.”

The true power this woman has over you suddenly drops into your head like a ton of bricks. She has the key to your penis. She can keep you in this thing for as long as she wants to and there isn’t anything you can do about it. You feel like crying.

You slip the blouse on and fumble with the buttons. They’re on the wrong side and the nasty long fingernails on your hands keep getting in the way. Miss Payne watches your struggle with amusement. The shirt feels too tight, hugging your tiny waist and your new bosom. The sleeves are too short, showing off your smooth arms. You’re even further dismayed to see the outline of the red bra visible through the thin white material.

“Now fair warning, Rita,” Miss Payne says as you finish the buttons, “Your supervisor in the secretarial pool has the right to remove one button from your blouse for every major mistake that you make. Most of you sluts love to show off their tits, but if you want to remain modest…you’d better do what you’re told.”

She has to be joking? The managers can cut buttons off of your shirt? Your mind flashes back to Nikki, from downstairs. Your first thought had been that she was an exhibitionist. Dear God! That could be you!

“If you run out of buttons, you’re required to buy a new blouse. These things cost what you make in a day, so if you’re smart you’ll keep your mouth shut unless a manager finds a reason for you to open it.”

You cringe at the crude innuendo of that statement.

You’re so wrapped up in thought that the skirt almost hits you in the face. You catch it out of the air at the last minute and worm your way into it. It barely fits over your hips, but zips easily up your cinched waist. The pleated bottom twirls around your stocking-covered legs, caressing them with your every breath.

Miss Payne instructs you to tuck the blouse in and you do so quickly. The threat of button removal and the promise of getting out of the horrible chastity belt has you as meek as a mouse. The blouse presses ever tighter against your breasts now that its tucked in. You look down at them and see the writing that hugs the curve of your left chest.

“Rita: How may I make your day better?”

You have a feeling that just looking like you do could make some guys have a better day. The thought frightens you almost as much as the objects Miss Payne holds in her hands.

She’s got to be kidding! How does she expect you to walk in those things?

You sit back down and cram your feet into the constricting, black footwear, your toes screaming as they compress into the pointed tip. The heel looks to be about two inches high, but is so slender you wonder how you’re going to stand up. The straps around your ankle end in a small clasp that you fiddle with until you finally get them strapped on. You marvel at how small they make your feet look. Then again with how uncomfortable they are, you’re not THAT surprised. They feel two sizes too small.

“Stand up,” Miss Payne barks and you wobble to your feet. She kneels in front of you and before you realize what she’s up to, she fastens a tiny silver padlock to the clasp on your right ankle. She grabs your right foot before you can pull it away and puts a similar lock on that one. She stands up and looks at you approvingly.

“Sluts like you need to keep your fuck-me shoes on at all times,” she cackles, “After you learn to walk in these, we’ll get you a higher heel. Maybe then you can look me in the eye.” She laughs again and you realize you’re still shorter than her even in the heels. Your knees feel weak and you take a tentative step and almost fall over. How are you going to walk anywhere in these? And when is she going to let you take them off?

While you wobble around trying to get your ‘sea legs’, Miss Payne pulls a final item out of the bag. She fastens the tiny lace collar with the heart pendant around your neck. It constricts around your neck just short of painfully and when you clear your throat it comes out higher and softer than your regular voice. You look at Miss Payne miserably.

“There,” she says, pressing a finger to the tiny heart on your neck, “That ought to hide the last remnant of maleness from everybody. And this…” she uses her fingernail to click a small button on the heart. The thing begins to vibrate ever so slightly against your neck. “That will help you sound just a little more breathless. Congratulations, Rita, you make one hell of a fine looking secretary.”

This does not make you feel good. You shift uncomfortably from one leg to another in the constricting shoes, feeling the panty ruffles tickle your thighs. You wish you could go back in time and stop yourself from ever coming to this hellish place.

“Ready to start your training, Rita?” She uses that horrible name again and you realize that you’re starting to automatically respond it.

“If you need to go to the bathroom, go now!” she commands, picking up the phone off the wall and punching in a number.

As you carefully wobble your way to the bathroom, you realize that you actually DO have to go. But the main reason for the trip to the water closet is so you can catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Despite the horror of your situation, you’re morbidly curious about what you look like. Each step you take causes your clothing and hair to swish and rub against your sensitive skin, but its impossible to tell how you actually look without a mirror.

As the door closes to the bathroom, conditioning kicks in and you have to rush to the stall. There’s a moment of panic as you reach for your dick underneath your skirt and realize that it isn’t there. Then you remember the chastity belt. How are you supposed to pee? You feel down in between your legs and find the tiny hole Miss Payne had rubbed between your legs. So you CAN pee, but you have to sit down to do it. With a fresh wash of embarrassment, you pull the tight pink panties down to your ankles and sit on the toilet, letting the liquid flow out of your crotch in a manner consistent with the opposite sex.

You wonder briefly about the other type of bathroom function. With very little effort, you manage to pull the strap running up your ass crack to one side. It looks like this belt was designed to let you have full bathroom capabilities. At least that’s something. You can feel the residual moisture inside the belt and dab at it with toilet paper mortified at having to wipe yourself like a girl. You take the opportunity to mop your panties out as well, getting the soaking fabric as dry as possible.

You step out of the stall and see the stunning woman in the mirror above the sink. For a moment you think this woman is someone who has come in to pee. Then the realization strikes. Its YOU!

Part of you was afraid that the image in the mirror would reflect a man dressed up in women’s clothing. What you see is almost worse. Looking back at you is a sexy woman dressed in one of the most provocative outfits imaginable. Your member strains against the unyielding chastity belt at the sight of this goddess. Your mind starts running through perverse acts of what you want to do to this woman, while at the same time cringing at the thought of having those things done to YOU!

Your long, slender legs seem endless in the sheer stockings, before they tuck their way into the swishy black skirt. You turn slightly and the hemline swirls up to reveal the garter straps and the barest glimpse of exposed thigh. There’s another sharp pain inside the belt as the woman in the mirror puts on this show for you.

Your waist is impossibly tapered and, looking at your figure, you’re not surprised at all that you can barely breathe. Small, perfectly formed orbs strain at the thin material of your shirt as if they want release from the cotton restraints. The bra holding them back doesn’t even attempt to hide behind the white material covering it.

Another throb inside the belt.

The writing on your chest causes the pretty girl in the mirror to blush as she reads it. This woman looks like she has hundreds of tricks to make someone’s day better.

The girl strikes another pose and you’re amazed as the vision in front of you mimics your every action. You feel the soft caress of the sheer stockings as your legs move against each other. Without warning, a tiny dribble of liquid squirts into your panties. You don’t think you’ve ever been hornier in your life. The desperate look of need in the face of the blonde haired girl in the mirror only makes your horniness worse. The girl looks like she’s in heat. A horny slut willing to do anything for sex. Her face is flushed. Her pupils dilated. This is a desperate woman. You shiver as gooseflesh pimples your flesh. Any guy that sees you is going to be all over you. Despite your growing horror, your member shoots another worthless spurt.

You go back to the stall and wipe the creamy liquid out of the pink panties again. A huge wash of dismay sweeps over you. Seeing yourself dressed like this has gotten you incredibly turned on, despite the shame and humiliation you feel of being so easily made up to look like a woman. You want, or rather you NEED desperately, to relieve yourself…to get rid of this sexual tension. The last thing you want people to think is that you ENJOY looking like this. You try to work a finger up inside of the chastity belt, but the thing keeps your probing feminine finger at bay. You try rubbing yourself through it. You’re rewarded with a slight tingling and another squirt of liquid that comes out with absolutely no pleasure. You feel like screaming in frustration.

You stand up and pull the panties back into place, the tickling frills of the lace on your thighs causing you to instantly squirt another shot into them. Still no pleasure. No release. You stamp your foot allowing yourself a tiny tantrum at the uncomfort of this situation. Every move you make seems to cause your trapped member to want to spit in protest and there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do about it. How are you going to get through the day when everything you do causes your panties to get damper and damper. For a moment the idea crosses your mind to ask Miss Payne to undo your belt so you can relieve yourself. Then the notion of explaining why you need to remove the belt to her flashes through your head and you instantly abandon the idea. You definitely don’t want her thinking you like looking like this.

“What’s going on in there?” the horrible woman hollers in to you, “Hurry up. I don’t have all day!”

“C’mon,” Miss Payne says, practically pushing you out the door into the hallway. You shudder with fear as it dawns on you that other people are going to see you now. And not just women. Men are going to see you dressed like a teenage boy’s wet dream. Your legs get even more wobbly then they were.

“Move your ass back and forth more,” she mutters behind you, “It helps with the balance.” Desperate to not fall on your ass, you move it back and forth as she suggested. It helps a little, even as it emphasizes the material riding up your ass cheeks. As you move you have to move your hands differently as you walk in order to keep your balance. You feel like a caricature of a woman. A cartoon sex drawing like Jessica Rabbit or Betty Boop.

Miss Payne leads you down to hall to the elevator. With every step you take, the lacy panties tickle your crotch. The wetness down there only further humiliates you, yet as the skirt swishes across your silky legs they grow damper still. You’re finding it really hard to focus on anything other than the erotic stimulation this outfit is inflicting on you.

She swipes her card and the elevator arrives promptly. You step inside, but Miss Payne doesn’t. She just leans in, swipes her card and presses the 12 button. Then she leans back out of the elevator.

“Enjoy your training, Rita,” she says as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, “I expect an obedient little girl after lunch.”

Then she’s gone and you’re left alone in an elevator that is rocketing upward.

It doesn’t get to twelve before it stops.

On the tenth floor the car slows down and you feel like you’re about to explode from nervous energy. Your legs are shaking and it’s only partly because of the heels.

The woman who steps into the elevator isn’t dressed anything like you. She wears a smart looking suit, with a skirt that goes down to her calves. You wish, for a brief moment, that you could have had an outfit like hers instead of the tarty thing you’re in now. Then you decide that if you’re going to be wishing, you might as well wish not to be dressed like a woman at all.

The woman gets into the elevator and gives you the once over while she fishes for a keycard in her bag. You stand awkwardly, not exactly sure what to do with your hands. She chuckles under her breath at your obvious discomfort.

“First day, huh?” she says still rooting in her purse. You mumble assent, aware that your voice seems even higher due to the blasted vibrating collar. The woman doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual about you at all.

“Don’t worry, cutie,” she says as she finds the elusive plastic card, “With a body like yours, you got nothing to worry about around here.”

She swipes the card and the doors begin to slide shut. She sidles up next to you, invading your personal space. You step away, but in the closed elevator there’s no where to go.

She runs her fingers through your hair, inspecting it.

“Love that blonde hair,” she mutters and then yanks it so your head is pulled side ways. You cry out in pain, but she ignores you, continuing her examination as if you were a car she was thinking of renting.

With the hand not holding your hair, she grabs your face and puckers your mouth. She peers in at your teeth, nodding with approval.

“Good teeth, nice eyes…”

She grabs your left breast.

“Small up top, but that’s easily fixable.” She spins you around effortlessly. You’re so taken off guard, you don’t even have time to resist. You struggle to maintain your balance even as her hand grabs your ass. You jump in surprise and she laughs.

“And you’re obviously still fresh. The girls around here get jaded so quick…And that blonde hair…you’d be surprised how many clients ask for that…”

What the hell is she talking about? And why is she treating you like a piece of meat?

The elevator dings and still she keeps you pressed to the wall of the car, examining your ass and legs with a keen eye.

“All right, Rita,” she says reading the name off of your breast, “You tell your supervisor that Miss Worthington is interested. Got it?” You nod, grateful that she’s moved away from you a little. You don’t know what that was all about, but you’re ready to be off this elevator. You smile a polite smile at the woman, and then hurry for the door, wiggling your butt back and forth as you go to keep your balance. The door shuts behind you and you breathe a sigh of relief. At least until you see the girl standing in front of you.

She’s dressed almost identically to the outfit you’re in. Her pale skin shimmers next to her white shirt. Her hair is blonde and razor-straight, tucked behind her ear in a way that emphasizes her cuteness. She looks at you and smirks at the bewildered look on your face. You feel a wave of dislike wash over you towards this girl, even as your eyes continue to take in her beauty.

“Are you Rita?” she asks, her voice small and almost non-existent.

“Yeah, I’m Rita,” you say. It’s scary how easily that name trips off your tongue now. You grind your teeth. You can’t wait to get out of this place. Once again it occurs to you, that your voice is way too high and girlie. It shouldn’t have been this easy for them to turn you into this. You’re a guy, for chrissake.

“Follow me,” the girl in front of you says. Her voice is barely audible and she hurries down the hallway not looking back to see if you’re coming. You race after her, almost twisting your ankle in the blasted shoes, trying to keep up. She gets to the destination door, puts her hand on the knob, but doesn’t open it until you get there.

“Good luck, Rita,” she says softly. You look at the name stenciled on her shirt.

“Thanks, Becky,” you say. You wonder for a second if that’s HER real name. Then the door opens and you follow her inside.

The room is small and instantly makes you feel claustrophobic. There are five tiny desks with chairs, each one with an antique looking manual typewriter on top of it. Becky instantly rushes toward the one on the end and begins typing frantically as if her life depended on it. Your eyes drift toward the front of the room and you see a man in a suit, sitting behind his desk looking at you with intense blue eyes. It is not a pleasant look. You shiver at the idea of being dressed this way in front of a man like this. You feel naked. Worse than naked.

“Well?” he growls at you. You jump at his voice. “Choose a desk and sit down, girl…We’re not paying you to stand there idle.” You’re beginning to understand Becky’s nervousness. You’ve been in the room maybe three seconds and just the presence of this man has you on edge.

You dash to a desk and sit down. The chair is horribly uncomfortable. It’s too low and the seat feels like it has a ridge down the center that pushes your underwear further into your ass. Sitting here is like giving yourself a perpetual wedgie. Worse is the pebbled texture of the seat which seems to cling to your skirt pulling it up as you sit. You yank the garment back down, embarrassed by the glimpse of thigh that you just showed the man in the suit. The gleam in his eye says he not only noticed, but approved of the indecency.

He walks over beside you and stands a little too close. You turn to look at him and realize that the low seat puts you eye level with his crotch. You quickly turn back away, face flushed.

“So you’re Rita,” he says looming beside you, “Miss Payne says you’re gonna be a pain in the ass. You better hope she’s misjudged you.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans down so his face is beside yours. You cringe away from his touch. “Let me tell you something, Rita. Don’t mess with me. I have a very short temper and if you cause me any grief you’re gonna have a lot bigger problem than a few buttons missing on your shirt. Isn’t that right, Becky?”

From across the room, Becky says quickly and clearly, “Yes, Mr. Kail.” He turns back to you.

“Becky’s a lazy slut, but she knows when to speak and when to keep her trap shut! Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Rita?”

“Yes, Mr. Kail,” you say in a perfect imitation of Becky. He smiles, one of his hands caressing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. You try not to flinch away from the touch, but you can’t help it. His thumb traces your lower lip before the hand moves away. You shudder. Just his touch has made you feel violated somehow.

“Good girl,” he says as if you were an obedient dog, “All right. Put a sheet of paper in your machine and type the following paragraph.”

You scramble with the paper next to the typewriter. The nails that jut out from the end of your fingers keep you from being able to grab one of the sheets and he begins talking before you even have the machine ready. You curse internally, wondering why a high tech company like this isn’t using word processors. Maybe you’ll get to use one of those after you finish your training.

“Hurry up girl. Paragraph One. My name is Rita. New line.” You type in the words, dismayed at how slow you have to go because of the pink talons on your fingers. You’re only half finished with the sentence when he starts the next one.

“I am an air-headed secretary. I don’t think. I do what I’m told. New line.” You frantically try to catch up, your mind racing as the words slowly appear on the page in front of you. What kind of training is this? The nails keep you from going fast enough and he starts the next paragraph before you finish the one you’re on.

“I don’t ask questions. I don’t complain. My mouth is not for speaking. New line.” You type the sentences as fast as you can, wincing as your long nails cause you to type ‘complain’ as ‘cfomplain’. You’re not completely sure you got the sentences in the right order. Why is he going this fast? Can’t he see that you’re having trouble?

“I am seen, not heard. I like to be seen. I like to look sexy. New paragraph.”

With a quick confused glance at Mr. Kail, you type it in, trying to remember it long enough to get it onto the paper. Your eyes scan back over the paragraph. This has to be a joke! Some sort of office prank. What kind of training is this?

“Those are your rules to learn this morning, Rita. I want that paragraph typed on twenty five pages, eight to a page. Got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Kail,” you say, your voice already sounding recorded. You hit the Enter button twice to cue up the next paragraph. You hope you’ve transcribed it right. This is not the kind of man you want to have angry at you!

You type in the words, “My name is Rita.” The pink talons cause another stupid typo. You hope they’re not judging you on this stupid exercise. To your left, you hear Becky tap, tap, tapping away at her own typewriter. It sounds like she’s doing short sentences like yours. You wonder if she has the same assignment.

You finish the sentence. This is the dumbest training exercise you’ve ever had. These sentences are barely above an elementary school primer and they’re horribly demeaning. What exactly does this brute want you to learn by doing this?

You type in the second line. Another typo. These blasted nails. You’ll have to go slower.

You shift in the uncomfortable seat, trying to maneuver the chastity belt and the frilly underwear out of your butt crack. You don’t succeed. The tickling ruffles of your panties do manage to summon another throb from your encased cock though.

You type in the third line. God this seat is uncomfortable. You shift again, and the rough texture underneath you causes your skirt to ride back up. You look down and see a peek of thigh in your lap and try to shift again to get it to disappear. You only succeed in working your skirt up further.

This is unbearable.

You stop typing and pull your skirt back down.

“Is there a problem, Rita?” Mr. Kail asks in the most condescending voice imaginable, “I told you to type, not to play with your outfit. If you take those hands off of the keys again before you’re finished, I’ll make sure you don’t HAVE an outfit to play with.”

You squeak with fear. He wouldn’t dare try to undress you. Would he?

Best not to take any chances. Your hands fly back up to the keys and to the fourth sentence.

There. One paragraph done. This isn’t that hard. If only the seat wasn’t SO uncomfortable. You type the paragraph again. Then again. By the fifth page it’s ingrained in your memory. By the tenth, you know them by heart.

Your skirt has ridden up again, but Mr. Kail’s threat wins out over your instinct to correct it. Every second that ticks by makes you aware of the ridge in the center of the seat. It feels like the chair has a line in it that actually contours to the curve of your ass. It’s like they want you to be uncomfortable. You wiggle around unable to help yourself, wincing as your skirt rides further up and the ridge climbs further between your ass cheeks. There is more than just a glimpse of your thigh showing now. Your eyes flash over to where Mr. Kail is sitting, and the leer he is giving you proves that he has noticed your skirt problems. You shiver. He’s checking you out!

Halfway through page eighteen, Becky stops typing and raises one hand up in the air as if she was in elementary school. She looks up hopefully at Mr. Kail. He lets her sit there for a minute before saying, “All done, Becky?”

“Yes, Mr. Kail.” Her voice singsongs the words.

“Bring them up here and let me see.” he barks. Becky springs to her feet and minces up to Mr. Kail’s desk. You can’t help but watch her ass sway back and forth as she goes. The way those heels make her walk makes your mouth water. Then you remember that you have to walk that same way and another cold chill runs up your spine.

You continue to type, but your eyes are on Becky as she reaches Mr. Kail’s desk. He pats his legs with his hand and you can barely contain your surprise as she sits across his lap. This place is insane! One of his hands rests on the small of her back, while the other is on her knee. She holds the papers at a good reading level for him and he peruses the first page.

“Say your lesson, Becky,” he says. The hand on her leg moves upward slightly to rest just above the knee. Becky recites the words she has typed without looking at them.

“My name is Becky.

I do what I’m told. I don’t know what is best. I need to be corrected.

I’m here to serve. I live to please. I love to give.

I need to be watched. I like to be touched. I love to be used.”

You may have imagined it, but you think you hear a slight quiver in her voice on those last words, her eyes wet with moisture. You look down at the words you’re typing and realize the similarity. You’ve memorized yours as well. You’ve typed these stupid simple sentences so many times that you don’t even have to look back to know what comes next. They are training you! They’re training you to become more and more like Becky. Docile. Obedient. Submissive.

Mr. Kail seems pleased. The hand on her back pats her ass affectionately while the hand on her leg seems to have disappeared under the hem of her skirt. This man is a sexual PIG! Becky squirms as his hand nears her crotch but she makes no effort to get off of his lap.

“Good job, Becky, only eight typos.” His voice is filled with good cheer. “I think this might be your last week of training.” Her eyes gleam with hope. “How many weeks have you been training with me, Becky? You may speak.”

Her answer is clear and concise, “Five!”

Five weeks! Five weeks of doing these stupid exercises with the pig every morning? You’re going to go insane.

He smacks her ass hard enough to make her squeal and jump off of his lap. He jots a quick note on a piece of paper and hands it to her.

“I’ll let you go get the three of us lunch today, Becky. You’ve earned a little freedom I’d say.” Excitement fills her eyes. The poor girl must have such a boring life to get excited over taking a lunch order. “I’ll have my usual. You and Rita will have salads. Get going girl!” He smacks her on the ass again. She scuttles from the room and disappears out the door and down the hall.

His eyes fall on you and you quickly turn your attention back to your typing.

“Rita,” he growls, “Bring the pages you have finished up to me right now!”

Flustered, you grab the pages and quickly wobble your way to the front. He pats his legs the same as he did for Becky. He can’t be serious? He wants you to sit on his lap!?!

“This can’t be happening,” you think as you find yourself sitting awkwardly across his lap. Your skirt bunches up again, riding up high enough to show off your pink underwear. You squirm trying to fix it but his hand clamps down on your knee, chilling you into stillness. The heat from his hand radiates through the stocking. You feel his other hand on your back, equally warm through the thin material of your blouse. Your arm goes around his neck for balance which unfortunately makes you press your body against his. You can smell his cologne, a husky man smell that contrasts sharply to the fruity odor that emanates from your freshly exfoliated skin. He’s so much bigger than you that you feel completely overwhelmed by his bulk.

A sudden thought occurs to you. Miss Payne talked to him about you, but did she mention that you’re actually a guy? You wonder if he knows. You’re mentally torn as to whether you want him to know the truth or not. On one hand, if he knows you’re a guy, he has still insisted that you sit on his lap. At the same time, if he doesn’t know and then finds out, you could be in serious trouble. You don’t think this is a man who likes surprises. You begin to shiver with your predicament and the hand on your knee squeezes gently.

“You’re doing well, Rita.” he says, his voice soft and surprisingly sweet, “I’m only mean to you if you do something bad. When you’re a good girl, you have nothing to worry about.” The hand on your leg begins to move back and forth slowly…soothingly. You don’t like the way this is going, yet at the same time, the soft stroking on your leg causes another tiny squirt of liquid to fill your panties.

“Now let’s see your papers,” he says, his tone jovial. You hold them up for him, much as Becky did, and await his response.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Mr. Kail says eyeballing the page in front of him. His hand continues to stroke your stocking-clad leg. “The first sentence is good. At least you’re smart enough to know your name.” He smiles at you, as if this is a compliment.

“No, no, no,” he says, his voice once again reverting to the master scolding a pet, “You’ve got the second line all screwed up. Every time too. Stupid Bitch! That’s ten points off.” You don’t like the sound of that.

“What is this? You really are a stupid airhead aren’t you,” he asks, not expecting an answer. “You’ve got the third line all messed up. I can’t forgive this. Your score is ten points lower.” He ‘tsks’ under his breath, the hand on your back sliding down to your ass and smacking it pertly. You ‘Yip’ in surprise and he chuckles at your discomfort, his hand staying on your ass.

“The fourth line is perfect.” The hand on your butt squeezes and you wriggle uncomfortably. This can’t be legal. You can’t treat people this way and get away with it.

“These really aren’t bad for your first day, Rita,” the brute says, patting your leg. The final pat lands his hand a little further up your leg. You shiver, unable to help yourself. You are all too aware of what you look like, right now. The last thing that you need is to be on the lap of a sex-obsessed man!

“Say your lesson, Rita,” he says. His hand is on your bare thigh now. Oh god, you can feel the throbbing beast beneath you. Without thinking you spout off the sentences you typed over and over. They come out perfectly and you weren’t even focused on them.

“Good girl,” he says. Before you know it’s happening, you feel his lips press against your cheek in a soft, gentle kiss. The corner of his mouth touches the corner of yours and you flinch away. The man just kissed you! Your mind is reeling as Mr. Kail’s eyes go back to the pages still in your hand.

“Six obvious typos on page one. I’m sure you’ll do better tomorrow morning.” Ha. You made fewer mistakes than Becky. Wait. Tomorrow? Oh Hell. Surely you won’t have to do this for five weeks like Becky. Right? If only you could quit this job. But you can’t…not until you get this stupid chastity belt off and find some regular clothes.

“You’re a lucky girl, Rita, most new trainees get 40 or 50 spanks on their first day. 26 should be a piece of cake.”

Your brain takes a moment to digest this. Spanks? What is he talking about? You look up at him questioningly, but his attention is diverted by Becky traipsing into the room with three lunch containers.

“Perfect timing, Becky,” he says. He puts you on your feet as if you were no more than a rag doll for him to play with. “Let’s go ahead and get your spankings out of the way girls, that way we can enjoy a nice pleasant lunch together. What do you say?” Instinctively you don’t respond. You don’t think this was an actual question.

“Becky would you be kind enough to show our new trainee the proper receiving posture?”

You watch with horror as Becky pulls her skirt up to her hips. She leans forward to ensure it will stay, and then puts her elbows down on Mr. Kail’s desk. Her pale thighs practically glow against her stockings and dark, satin underpants. There’s a surge of pain in your chastity belt from the sight of this woman’s exposed ass. At the same time, your heart tries to tear itself from your chest in the fearful knowledge that you’ll be expected to assume the same position.

“Rita, I’m going to let you do the honors,” Mr. Kail said stepping around the desk to watch the proceedings, “She had eight typos, which means eight smacks. Make them good ones. Lessons aren’t learned from leniency.”

You can’t believe this. He expects you to spank this woman eight times for mis-typing a couple of words. Worse yet, the odds are good that Becky is going to spank you for your mistakes. If you spank her hard, she’ll probably retaliate, but if you don’t spank her hard enough, Mr. Kail could punish you! This just isn’t fair!

You stand behind Becky, unable to take your eyes off of the perfectly formed moons peeking around her underwear. This is like your wildest wet dream gone horribly wrong. Two women spanking each other makes you incredibly hot, but being one of the women seems to diminish the fantasy somehow. Or make it better. You can’t quite decide.

You really don’t want Mr. Kail to be upset with you, so you haul back and smack the poor girl’s ass with all your might. Her smooth skin vibrates against your palm. She squeals. Your panties dampen. You repeat the process over and over. By the eighth smack, your hand hurts. You can only imagine how Becky must feel.

Her ass glows as you finish the final spanking. She stands up, letting her skirt fall back into place. You see the tears in her eyes, but there is something else there too. Anger. You have an uncomfortable suspicion that its not directed at Mr. Kail. She’s angry at YOU!

“Your turn, Rita.” Oh God. Can this get any worse?

You’re trembling all over as you approach the desk. Never in a million years would you have thought this day would have turned out like this! You almost feel like you’re in a dream, stuck in somebody else’s body. You watch your hands with the long pink nails, slowly raise the short skirt up your legs. The slinky, sheer stockings dissolve into your smooth skin, covered only by the tiny garter straps. Then a tiny glimpse of satiny pink. The cool air on your rear causes goose bumps to pop up all over your body. You find yourself bending over at the waist, your elbows leaning on Mr. Kail’s desk. Your long, blonde hair swishes in front of your face as if it was trying to hide your shame.

You can sense Becky walking up behind you. You shut your eyes. Your jaw clamps shut. Oh god, why is this happe…


Its worse than you imagine! Your smooth, sensitive skin seems to amplify the pain. Becky’s not holding back. Not even a little bit. You feel a sense of resentment towards the bitch, despite the fact that you did the same thing to her only a minute before.

“1,” Mr. Kail calls out, “Only 25 more to go!”


Your eyes start to fill with tears. 24 more. You try to block out the pain. You don’t succeed.

Your ass is on fire. The good news is, you and Becky are allowed to eat standing up. The bad news is…everything else about the meal. Apparently secretaries at M&R aren’t allowed to use silverware. You really should have READ the contract better. Eating salad with your fingers is not pleasant. Unfortunately, that’s not the only impediment.

Mr. Kail ordered you to feed Becky…and for her to feed you.

So here you are, your fingers covered in a gooey Caesar dressing, trying to eat the pinch of lettuce that Becky holds between her fingers, while watching Becky’s lips wrap around your own. There’s no good way to do it, save putting her fingers in your mouth and letting her drop the food onto your tongue. She seems to have no reservations about this activity. Her own mouth eagerly wraps around your salad holding fingers, sucking the dressing off with no hesitation at all. The slut almost seems to enjoy it.

Slowly you finish the meal. The salads were miniscule and your stomach gurgles, feeling slighted. You glare at Mr. Kail. He pops the last bite of his turkey sandwich into his mouth with a grin.

“Still hungry girls?” he chuckles, “Don’t worry, I have dessert for you.”

The sexual tone to his voice frightens the hell out of you. Then you see the cup of tapioca pudding that came with his lunch and you feel better. Phew.

He pops open the lid and dips one of his big, beefy fingers into it. He holds the finger out to Becky. She doesn’t hesitate.

Her lips wrap around it and she sucks the pudding into her greedy little mouth. You can’t believe how slutty she is! You would never…

The same finger is extended toward you, pudding gooped all over it, the finger underneath it glistening with Becky’s saliva.

Your stomach gurgles. Once again you’re faced with a choice that doesn’t feel like much of a choice. If you don’t accept the pudding, this horrible man will punish you again. Your ass is still scalding from the brutal beating Becky gave you and the thought of another spanking makes you want to weep. At the same time, eating food from a woman’s finger was one thing…sucking food off a man’s finger was a different story entirely.

Determined not to be punished again, you lean forward and wrap your lips around his finger. It feels warm and meaty inside your mouth, and you fight back the gag reflex. You use your lips to scrape the pudding off into you mouth. The flavor is tapioca, but the way you got it into your mouth makes the texture really unpleasant.

“Well?” Mr. Kail asks, “Don’t I get a thank you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Kail,” you and Becky say in near unison.

“Yeah…thanks for letting us suck your finger you egotistical prick,” you think. You’ve got to get out of here!

Mr. Kail looks at his watch.

“Looks like our time is up for this morning. Becky! Give Rita a kiss and thank her for feeding you lunch.”

Did he just say…

Suddenly Becky is pressing up against you. Her lips meet yours and you find yourself locked in a kiss. You can smell her flowery scent merging with your own. Her painted lips taste sweet, much as yours must taste. You feel her tongue flick against your lip, not entering your mouth but exploring just a tiny bit. Your locked away member spits in pleasure and protest. Then she pulls away, her head down, her face flushed with embarrassment. You feel an utmost certainty that she thinks you’re really a woman. The guilty look on her face proves it to you once and for all. She feels guilty for kissing another girl.

“Rita! Kiss Becky goodbye and thank her for lunch.”

You lean in toward Becky, feeling her body against yours again. God! What you wouldn’t give to be alone with her and have this stupid chastity belt off for ten minutes. You feel like you’re about to explode from pent up sexual tension. You gently put your lips against hers, feeling their moist tenderness melt into your own. Her tongue once again tickles your lip and then surprisingly slips into your mouth. You can feel her trepidation about kissing a girl even as she explores for a quick second before pulling away again. Her face burns as bright as your backside feels. She liked it. You have a feeling she’s as turned on as you are.

“All right, girls,” he says, walking around to your side of the desk. He wraps an arm around Becky, pulls her into an embrace and kisses her himself. He makes your own kiss look tame. His tongue does Olympic events into her mouth. One of his hands goes to the back of her neck. She moans at his touch, even as his other hand drifts downwards toward her backside. The kiss lasts forever, Becky surrendering to the brute’s every will. He pulls away, leaving her gasping for breath.

Then he turns toward you.

Oh God.

He pulls you into himself, his massive body dwarfing your own. His lips meet yours with a harshness and you feel his tongue instantly start intruding inward. He explores your closed teeth with a passion and you feel his hands begin to explore your body. The one that clamps onto your neck, squeezes just hard enough to make you open your mouth. This lets the slimy intruder in and it begins to conquer the dark region with its writhing and wriggling. His other hand grabs your ass, pressing your body closer and harder against him. You feel the rigid thing that presses against your belly. You struggle to get away from this animal, but he holds you tight letting you go only when he finishes his exploration.

You find yourself gasping for breath just as much as Becky, even as your mind tries to come to grips with what just happened. A man just KISSED you!

“How do you like your new slut?” a voice from the door asks. All three of you turn to see the woman leaning in the door frame.

You know, without a doubt, that the smirk on Miss Payne’s face is due to your predicament. She just watched this brute molest your mouth. She never told him you were a guy. He thinks you’re just as much of a slut as Becky and this woman never even hinted otherwise. Your hatred for her swells to epic proportions.

“She’s a hot little thing,” Mr. Kail says, squeezing your ass for emphasis. You can’t suppress a squeal. “It’s gonna be a lot of fun breaking her in.”

What did he mean by that?

“Well at least you’ve found a way to keep that sassy mouth of hers busy,” Miss Payne laughs.

“Yeah…that’s one way.” he says. He smacks your aching ass hard enough to cause you to leap forward. Becky is already heading toward Miss Payne.

“Bye, girls,” Mr. Kail says, his voice full of good cheer, “See you tomorrow.”

He heads back to his desk, as you and Becky follow Miss Payne out of the room and back towards the elevator.

You stand next to Becky in the elevator and feel an irrational dislike for the girl. She is standing perfectly straight with her hands tucked behind her back. Her chest is puffed out, her perfectly formed breasts straining at the thin fabric of her blouse. Her head is lowered, with her eyes on her feet, the perfect display of feminine submission. She’s making you look bad and at the same time driving you mad with lust. You can’t help but stare at her breasts as she breathes slowly in and out…

“Rita!” Miss Payne growls without looking at you, “Stand up straight. You don’t see Becky slouching do you?”

You glare at Becky. You might be wrong, but you think you see a slight smirk on her face. Well if she thinks she’s better than you, you’ll show her.

You copy her posture, standing even straighter and stiffer than the brown-nosing bitch. You wait expectantly for a compliment from Miss Payne. It doesn’t come. This is SO unfair!

With your head hung submissively you have a good view of your heel-clad feet. God they hurt! The horrid shoes feel like vices.

They sure do make your legs look sexy though. What did Miss Payne call them? Fuck me shoes?

A throb in your chastity belt confirms this. Why should the idea of wearing ‘Fuck Me’ shoes turn you on? You’ve got to get out of this crazy place! You’re wearing shoes that make men want to have sex with you, and what’s worse…they’re locked on your feet! When they let you out of this ridiculous chastity belt tonight, you’re going to do whatever it takes to get out of here! Hell you might even change your name. Today has been the worst, most humiliating day of your life. With almost no effort these people have dressed you up with an outfit that NO self-respecting woman would EVER wear…much less a MAN! Only sluts like Becky would enjoy looking like this…being treated like this…

Your legs start to hurt from standing so stiffly. You shift slightly, trying to take the weight off of your toes. Your thighs brush together being tickled by the lace of your slinky, pink panties. Your trapped member throbs. God what you wouldn’t give to be out of this chastity belt!

You shift legs again, feeling the sheer stockings rub together. Your panties dampen again. This is unbearable! Every move you make only makes you more sexually frustrated!

You glance over at Becky to see if she shows any similar signs of frustration. You realize your mistake at once. Seeing her beautiful body crammed into the provocative outfit that you share only causes the prisoner between your legs to drool more! You shift again, unable to help yourself, needing the caress of the lacey underwear against your thighs.

“Rita! Stop squirming! I’m not going to tell you again!”

You stand up straight again, feeling the garter straps snap tight to your bare skin. This is SO unfair. You only shifted from one foot to the other. You can see that smirk on Becky’s face again out of the corner of your eye. You’re really starting to HATE her!

The elevator stops on floor number seven and Miss Payne grabs Becky’s wrist.

“Rita! Wait here and DO NOT MOVE!” she growls as she hauls Becky down the hallway. You continue to hold your submissive pose until she’s out of sight, then cautiously you let your breath out and raise your head. Your whole body aches. Your ass feels raw from the horrible spankings, your feet throb from the atrocious shoes and your ribs feel like they’re about to crack from the constricting clothes. You’ve got to get out of this madhouse somehow.

More time passes and you dance back and forth, trying to let each foot rest a little. The movement causes the ruffled panties to tickle your thighs again and you grimace as another pleasureless spurt trickles down your leg. This is unbearable!

You peer down the hallway and still see no sign of Miss Payne. Maybe now is your chance!

The throbbing of your backside makes your decision for you. Maybe a better opportunity for escape will come later. For now, its best to do what you’re told and try not to do anything else wrong.

Two more minutes pass and you feel like your feet are about to fall off. How do women wear these stupid shoes all the time? You look down as you continue to dance back and forth from one leg to another. The tiny gold padlocks on the shoes don’t look that tough. Maybe if you had a hammer you could break them. Or a paperclip. Or something…

A noise causes you to look up. Standing in the hallway is a tall, dark haired man holding a manila envelope. He’s halfway out of a door, as if he stopped only when he noticed you. His eyes take in every inch of you and the grin on his face would look perfectly normal on the Big, Bad Wolf.

Your face turns bright red as you quickly resume the submissive posture: back arched, head down. Looking up with only your eyes, you can see him still staring at you. You feel horribly exposed standing here being stared at. Does he know you’re really a man? Or worse, does he NOT know? You’re trembling a little and you think you can actually HEAR your knees knocking together.

Seeing Miss Payne at the end of the hallway causes a wave of relief to run through you. At least until the man stops her and whispers in her ear. The look on her face causes your blood to run cold.

“Mr. Richards says you were fidgeting while I was gone,” she says as she approaches you, “Is that true?”

You look up at him in dismay. The bastard blows you a kiss before disappearing into his door. Feeling no more mature than a five year old, you nod your head ashamed.

She growls for a second…actually growls, low, deep and menacing. Then in a flash she whips a tiny pair of scissors out of her back pocket. Before you know what she is doing, she has removed the top button of your blouse. You stare at her in horror.

“Watch your step slut,” she laughs, “You only have three buttons left.”

You stare down at your shirt unable to stop yourself from pouting. Thankfully nothing is showing yet, but you can’t help but notice that the next button is right at bra level. If they cut that one off…

“Lesson learned?” she asks you. You nod your head, blinking back tears of frustration. This is SO unfair. You wouldn’t have fidgeted if they hadn’t made you wear these stupid shoes.

“Show me!” Miss Payne growls. For a minute you don’t know what she wants you to show her. Then it clicks. You assume the submissive posture, arching your back as much as you can and lowering your head to stare at your feet. You can’t remember being more uncomfortable, but what little modesty you have left is at stake. You’ll be damned if you let her take ANOTHER button.

The elevator opens and Miss Payne wastes no time dragging you down the hall. You’re so concerned about staying on your feet in the horrible heels that you quickly lose track of all the twists and turns through the corridors. When she finally does come to a stop outside of an ominous-looking closed door, you realize you have absolutely no idea of the way back to the elevator. Not that you could use it without an access card anyway.

She drags you roughly into a small waiting area that has a couch, a chair and a small office desk in the corner.

“Have a seat.” Miss Payne says, “Your supervisor will be out to meet you in a second. I’ll be back to get you at five-thirty.”

Your eyes flick to the inner door of the waiting area. Your supervisor. Butterflies fill your stomach and for a minute you think you’re going to be sick. You’re expected to be a full-fledged secretary for someone…dressed like THIS. Your eyes go wide as Miss Payne disappears, shutting the door behind her. Your first instinct is to run. To your horror, the door back to the hallway has no handle on it. There’s a small black panel where the door knob should be that must be laser activated. You’re trapped in here at the mercy of whoever is behind the other door. You stand there, shifting back and forth from one uncomfortably heeled foot to the other, not sure what to do. Sitting down seems like a winning plan though, if only to get off these stilts they have you walking around in.

“Rita,” a voice says from behind you, “Excellent!”

You spin around and see the woman from the elevator earlier. Miss Worthington. The one that had appraised you like a piece of meat. You shrink away as she draws close.

“Apparently, I’m lucky to get you,” she says, her hand stroking your cheek, “Miss Payne said that you have several bids on you already. Do you know how rare that is?” You stare at her unable to comprehend what she’s saying. Bids? They’ve already started auctioning you off!?!

Her hand stops stroking your cheek and grabs your face, puckering up your lips.

“You’re going to fetch a pretty penny, Rita,” she says, “I’m just lucky I saw you first.”

She leans in close to you, her hand still forcing your face into a puckered position.

“If Miss Payne hadn’t told me, I never would have known,” she whispers into your ear, “You’re very convincing…”

Your eyes spring wide open. She knows! She knows you’re a guy!

“And I thought you were just an innocent, wide-eyed girl when I first saw you. No wonder you were so skittish! Although with how well you pass for a girl I find it hard to believe you haven’t tried it before! I bet you dress up like a girl all the time, don’t you Rita?”

You nod your head, feeling the familiar shame wash over you. She only laughs.

“I knew it,” she giggles, “I knew you looked just a little TOO good!”

You hang your head, unable to meet her eyes.

“But you’ve never been TREATED like the slut you are until today, right?” she asks, pulling you toward her. Her face is only inches away from yours, her body pressed up against you. “You may have slutty eyes, but they’re an innocent slut’s eyes.”

Her lips are so close to yours that for a moment, you think she’s going to kiss you. You’re not sure whether you want her to or not.

“But don’t worry, Rita, that’s why you’re here.”

She twirls you around and shoves you toward the desk.

“Sit, type, answer the phone. Follow the instructions on the computer. Clients will be in later and you will serve drinks. Understand?”

You nod your head, not that any part of her speech was a question. You hurry to your desk, eager to get off of the uncomfortable stilts.

You plop down at the desk eager to get off the teetering heels, only to wince as your abused bottom connects roughly with the chair. You wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. Its not possible. This chair is just like the ones in the training room, with the wedge running through the center that rides up your butt-crack. Your skirt instantly slides up to reveal your thigh and you pull it back down again.

Your eyes are drawn to a mirror that’s bolted to the desk. It’s pointed directly at your face so that you can’t help but see yourself as you sit there. Despite the tears that you have shed throughout the day, there is no obvious distress to your make-up. However they applied it, seems to be waterproof! How are you ever going to get this stuff off!?!

Your eyes lock onto the eyes of the reflection and you shiver. You’re beautiful. There’s no other word for it. Your skin is flawless, your long, blonde hair perfectly styled and your kissable pink lips are large and pouty. Another tear drips down your reflection’s cheek and it only adds to the appeal. She looks so helpless. So submissive. It can’t possibly be you, can it?

There’s a rustle behind the inner door and your heart begins to pound. You need to get busy. Maybe later there will be a good chance to escape, but for now, your best hope is to do the job well enough to avoid punishment. You glance at the computer. It’s dark except for a single line which reads: “Type in your name:”

Not knowing what else to expect, you pull out the keyboard and start to type.

You wince as you type in Rita. Every time they make you use that horrible, degrading name it feels easier and easier. After your typing lessons earlier, your fingers have no trouble finding the letters. You stare at the name for a moment before pressing the Enter key. Rita. You. Your name. Your gaze travels back to the mirror on the desk.

Rita. The girl in the mirror. You.

You shiver. You have absolutely no trouble thinking of that girl in the mirror as Rita. She even looks like a Rita. What’s worse, you’re not even allowed a full name. You are only a first name. A sexy, little office girl, with no last name. How has this happened?

You make your eyes wander away from the beautiful blonde-haired girl in the mirror and back to the computer screen. You hit Enter and the monitor flashes to life.

“Welcome to your first day of Obedience Training, Rita”, the title says at the top of the screen. Obedience Training? What are you a dog?

The screen blinks and then a new title appears. “LESSON ONE: WORDS AND PHRASES THAT ARE ALLOWED.”

There are two buttons. One says, “READ THE LESSON”, the other says, “SKIP THE LESSON”.

Words roll onto the screen.

“As a low-level employee of the M&R Corporation, you are expected to have the following vocabulary. If you are caught using words outside of this list while in the presence of clients, you will face consequences.

The following words and phrases are allowed and can be used together: Yes. Sir. Ma’am. Miss. Please. Thank you. You’re welcome. I’m sorry.

The following phrases are allowed. Hello. My name is Rita. How may I make your day better? What else may I do for you? I would be happy to.

Since most entry level girls are often confused and easily distracted, you may ask questions so long as: 1.You begin every question with the words ‘May I’. 2.You ask permission to ask the question by saying, ‘May I ask a question?’.

Memorize these words. Other words are allowed should you be asked a specific question and told to speak freely. Failure to speak properly will result in discipline.”

They’re kidding right? You’re supposed to get by using only these words? Surely there have to be more. You click the CONTINUE button.


Once again there are two buttons: READ THE LESSON or SKIP THE LESSON.

“Your first lesson in etiquette is that good girls always curtsey. As an office girl of the M&R Corporation, you are expected to have proper etiquette. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”

You will curtsey:

When you are greeting a manager. Before you leave a manager. If you are complimented. If you are commanded to perform a task. If you are thanked. After a punishment has been administered.

“Demonstrated below is a proper curtsey.”

You look at the three drawings with the instructions beside them.

The right leg goes behind the left, toe on the ground. Knees are bent while you raise your skirt. The skirt should be raised to the middle of the thigh, so as to properly expose the tops of your stockings.

You feel your face blushing bright red as you picture yourself performing this inane act. If you have to curtsey every time you do one of the things listed…you’ll never have time to do anything else.

You press the continue button, eager to stop looking at the stupid ‘dance’ they expect you to do. LESSON THREE: DISPLAYING YOURSELF”

Dear God. This just keeps getting worse.

“All office girls of the M&R Corporation are expected to appear as sexy as possible and display that sexiness to the best of their ability.” Your eyes widen. This is going too far.

You should always arch your back and be proud of your bust. Your chest should be the first thing to enter a room and you should seek to draw attention to it in any way you can.

You should always wiggle when you walk. Your hips should sway from side to side and you should always have a bounce in your step. A bouncy girl is an energized girl.

You should always bend at the waist and you should NEVER bend your knees while bending over. Proper posture is essential in this organization.

You should show your panties at every opportunity. Panties are some of M&R’s best selling products and like all product placement, the more they are seen the better they sell.

You should keep your hands behind your back when standing still. Your arms should be crossed and your palms should be facing out. This will help you not only to stand up straight, but also to arch your back and show off your bust.

You should keep your head bowed and your eyes down, unless a Manager is speaking to you. A humble girl is a girl who knows her place.

You stop reading. You can’t believe you’re actually sitting in an office, dressed as a beautiful woman, being forced to learn how to act as sexy as possible. How did this happen? You press CONTINUE again, eager to get on to whatever actual work they have planned for you. You need to stay busy. Maybe then you can forget about the sensual clothes bound around your body, or the hair tickling your neck.

The screen goes dark for a second and then a button finally appears. It simply reads: FINISHED.

“PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS!” the screen reads in big, bold letters. Dear God, there’s a quiz!

“QUESTION ONE: Your manager calls you into their office and tells you to stand there until you are needed. A minute passes and then you are told to take a letter to the manager across the hall. The manager across the hall thanks you for the letter and mentions how pretty you look today. He tells you to tell your manager that he will be there in an hour. You go back and tell your manager the message. He thanks you and then tells you that you may go back to your desk.”

“How many times have you curtsied?”


“You would curtsey 13 times in the current scenario.”

“Your manager calls you into their office… ( 1. You curtsey when greeted by a manager.)

…and tells you to stand there until you are needed. ( 2. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.)

A minute passes and then you are told to take a letter to the manager across the hall. ( 3. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) ( 4. You curtsey when you leave a Manager’s Office.)

The manager across the hall… ( 5. You curtsey when you are greeting a manager .)

…thanks you for the letter… ( 6. You curtsey when you are thanked.)

…and mentions how pretty you look today. ( 7. You curtsey when you are complimented.)

He tells you to tell your manager that he will be there in an hour. ( 8. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) ( 9. You curtsey when you leave a manager’s office.)

You go back and tell your manager the message. (10. You curtsey when you are greeting a manager.)

He thanks you… (11. You curtsey when you are thanked.)

…and then tells you that you may go back to your desk. (12. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) (13. You curtsey when you leave a manager’s office.)”

The next question appears on the screen.

“QUESTION TWO: Which would you rather be? Pretty, Sexy or Slutty?”


“The answer is SEXY. You are expected to appear as sexy as possible and display that sexiness to the best of your ability.”

“QUESTION THREE: Do you understand the vocabulary rules? Yes or no?”


“Do you understand the vocabulary rules? Yes or no?”

“NO is not an acceptable word for an office girl of the M&R Corporation. You may only say yes.”

You have completed level one of your lessons. Your results are being printed in your Manager’s office. You may now go to the door and knock.”

You sit there for a minute, stunned. You’re supposed to go knock on the door? You shift in the uncomfortable seat, which only reminds you of your abused backside. You don’t think you can take another spanking. You’d better get going.

You knock on the door. Time passes and when there is no reply you begin to debate whether to knock again. Before you can make a decision, you hear “Come in…” bellowed from behind the door. Every molecule of your body doesn’t want to go in that room, but you really don’t see any other alternative. You take a deep breath, and slip inside. Before you even get a chance to look around the room, a thought occurs to you.

You’re expected to curtsey when you enter the manager’s office.

Just the thought of doing something that girly makes you blush, but at the same time, your aching behind can’t stand anymore torment. What are you to do?

You awkwardly do a bob, trying your best not to fall over in the heels. Miss Worthington doesn’t even seem to notice. Her attention is riveted at the paper on her desk.

You stand there awkwardly unsure of what to say or do. After an eternity passes, she finally looks up at you.

“What!?!” she asks. Before you can stammer an answer her eyes drift to the printer, “Oh…your test…let’s see how you did, shall we?”

She pulls the test out of the tray and takes a look at it.

“You didn’t do so well on your quiz, Rita,” she says, her eyes drifting up to you, “What are we going to do with you?”

You start to give her a suggestion of what SHE can go and do, when you see her hand dip into her desk drawer.

She raises to her feet and when you see what’s in her hand, you scream. Even in your horror, you’re dismayed to hear the girlishness to your cry. You run for the door and try to get it open, but before you can, her arm locks around you.

“Please don’t…” you whimper, even as she pulls your skirt up. You feel the cold air of the room cause your bare thighs to pimple with gooseflesh and then…

“You just need to be a little more receptive, Rita,” she says. She plunges the needle into the fatty part of your behind and you cry out in fear and pain as she injects a creamy liquid into you. “That’s why the job is called a receptionist…You need to be receptive.”

She pulls the needle out of you and drops it on the floor. You don’t feel any different, but who knows what foul thing just got injected into your ass?

The two of you stand there a minute, her pinning you with her body against the closed door. You feel her hand massaging your backside and you realize its sore not just from the spankings now but from the shot too. A tear trickles down your cheek. Why are they doing this to you!?! You don’t want to be this slutty, little sex-pot that they’ve turned you into. But everything you try to do to fix the situation only makes things worse! What are you going to do?

You feel her hand slide around your hip and her fingers begin to trace the edges of the chastity belt.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she says softly into your ear, “That was for your own good. It’ll just make you a little more…submissive.”

Another tear trickles down. She catches it on your cheek with a kiss. Her fingers move between your legs, rubbing the crotch of the chastity belt. Your body responds despite your mind’s horror of the situation. Her finger finds the tiny hole in the belt and as if it were a button connected to the pleasure sensors in your brain, you moan. Your member throbs inside of its confinement and squirts helplessly even as she continues to rub that sensitive spot. Your whole body aches with need. Your mind feels fuzzy and you KNOW that if you could just get a sexual release everything would seem a lot clearer, but with the belt on you will NEVER get that release.

“Are you more…receptive…now, Rita?” she asks. You moan again, unable to help yourself. She chuckles and suddenly the rubbing stops. She pulls away and goes back to her desk. The whole world feels far away as you turn to look at her. Your legs feel weak and every movement you make seems to stimulate your frustrated prisoner down below.

“Now you are going to take twenty minutes and clean up my office. There is a trash chute on the wall by your desk, take out my two waste baskets and yours as well. Then in the bottom drawer of your desk, there are cleaning supplies. I want this place to sparkle. And remember, Rita, You have to clean like an M&R girl. Bend at the waist and show off those pretty little panties of yours every chance you get, all right? Because if you don’t…” she holds a wooden ruler and cracks it down hard on the desk.

And that’s how you find yourself cleaning for twenty minutes. You empty the waste-baskets, bending at the waist like a good little girl. You wash the windows, stretching up on your tip-toes to reach the top, painfully aware of your skirt riding up. You dust every inch of furniture.

With the room sparkling clean you stand submissively in front of her desk. Your hands are behind your back, your chest is out, your head is down. She looks at you with a gleam in her eye.

“All clean?” she asks.

“Yes Ma’am,” you hear yourself replying even as your body performs a curtsey. You know you shouldn’t act this way, but what choice do you have? You have to get out of here somehow…if only an opportunity would present itself.

“Wonderful,” she says, clapping her hands, “I believe you deserve a reward…”

Her hand dips into the drawer of her desk and comes out holding something. Your eyes widen. She’s giving you a lollipop shaped just like a…

“There you go, Rita,” she says, thrusting the phallic candy into your hand, “Wrap your lips around that. All the girls around here REALLY like them.”

She looks at you expectantly and not knowing what to do, you curtsey again.

“Yes…You’re coming along just fine,” she chuckles, “Now go on and eat your reward.” You look at the candy in your hands again. It’s a life-size, red penis on a stick, maybe six-inches long and covered in a plastic wrapper. She can’t honestly expect you to put this in your mouth, can she? I mean, you’re a guy! She KNOWS you’re a guy! You look up at her with questioning eyes only to see a big, smirk on her face.

“Oh that’s right,” she cackles, “I forgot. You’ve never had your lips wrapped around something shaped like that before, have you?” She moves over to you while she talks, grabbing the candy out of your hands. “It’s easy, see?” she unwraps the lollipop and shoves it into your mouth. Before you have time to react, she pushes you down onto the leather-bound chair facing her desk and climbs on top of you. Her knees lock your arms down next to you and her weight makes it impossible for you to get out of the chair. One of her arms wraps around your head, while the other continues to hold onto the base of the candy cock.

“The real secret to enjoying this candy is to savor it,” she says. She pushes the candy all the way into your mouth. You start to gag, but before you can she pulls it back out, so that the head of the fake dick rests squarely on your tongue. Then she pushes it back in again. You bite down, trying to crack the thing in half and keep her from molesting your mouth with it, but the thing is too hard and thick to break. You only succeed in hurting your teeth. You try to struggle to get away, but with her weight on top of you, you have no options. Uncomfortably aware of the shape of the thing in your mouth, you stop resisting and allow her to slide the candy in and out of your lips.

“Now I’m sure you’ll like the real thing better,” she whispers into your ear, her voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up, “but this one is better for you. Filled with all the vitamins and nutrients a young girl like you needs.” Your eyes widen. For the first time you realize that the candy has a medicinal taste to it. Is it drugged? And if so, with what?

She continues to torment you with the candy for fifteen minutes while she whispers disgusting tips on how to savor the cock in your mouth, until finally you’re able to bite into the beast. She laughs and climbs off of you, squeezing your neck affectionately before she leaves.

“You’ve got a great looking mouth, girl. I may have to try it out for myself later.”

You’re about to spit the candy out when you see Miss Worthington glare up at you, just waiting for you to do something wrong. Your butt still throbs in a reminder of what happens for disobedience and that makes the decision for you. Wincing at the thought of what chemicals or drugs might be in the sweet tasting chunks, you chew up the remains and swallow them. Hopefully its nothing bad!

You turn to look at her, outraged over her molesting your mouth that way when you see her smile and wave at the door. You whip around, your skirt twirling to reveal your stocking tops only to see two women and a man standing in the doorway staring at you.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Miss Worthington says to the trio in the doorway. You’re not sure exactly what to do, so by default you stand where you are. You shift from one uncomfortable heel to the other, horribly aware of the humiliating outfit you’re squeezed into.

“Thanks for taking the time to see us,” the curly-haired brunette says, shaking hands with Miss Worthington, “I’m Maxine and this is my sister Rebecca.” The shorter woman shakes hands and then the two of them sit in the chairs facing the desk. You glance over at the guy who came in with them and catch him gazing at your legs. His eyes quickly dash away and a blush as red as your own darkens his cheeks.

“So what can I do for you ladies today?” Miss Worthington asks. She sits behind her desk as the two ladies look at each other. You and the guy who came with them seem to have been completely forgotten. You can feel him staring at you. You shift your feet, afraid to look up for fear of catching his eye again.

“Now, now ladies,” Miss Worthington laughs, “Don’t be shy. Would you like a drink?”

“Oh God, yes!” Rebecca says. You wonder why she’s so nervous. She’s not the one dressed like the office tart, after all.

“Rita!” Miss Worthington barks, “Fetch these ladies a glass of white wine please!” You jump at the sound of your name, curtseying without even thinking about it. You look around and spot the mini bar in the corner. The creepy guy’s eyes follow your every move.

The bottle of white wine is in the mini fridge under the bar and you wrestle the cork out with the corkscrew.

“The truth is, I need a secretary,” Maxine says, “Rebecca has that poor excuse of a husband of hers to help her out, but I’m stuck having to answer my own phone.”

You glance over as you pour the wine to see the guy looking at you again. Why does he let that woman talk about him that way? And why is staring at you?

“I don’t suppose you have any big and hunky, MALE secretaries hidden around here do you?” Maxine laughs. Miss Worthington just shoots her a sly smile and leans back in her chair.

“Nope. None of those, I’m afraid,” Miss Worthington says. You mince over to the ladies and hand them glasses of wine. You look over at the guy to see if he might like a glass and find him staring at you again. You decide that if he’s going to ogle you, then he won’t get any wine.

“But if it’s a male secretary you want,” Miss Worthington says, “We might have something that would interest you.”

Your eyes widen. Oh no…she’s going to tell them…

The two women are nodding their agreement and Miss Worthington waves you over with two fingers. Horrified, you scamper over next to her and curtsey.

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Dave Phillips. Say hello, Dave.”

You mutter a horribly embarrassing hello. They all stare at you, eyes wide and mouths ajar. But no one is more shocked than the guy. You’re afraid that his eyes are going to pop out of his head.

“No way!” Rebecca mutters. Maxine is not so subtle, “NO WAY!!!”

“I promise you ladies,” Miss Worthington says, “Rita, here, walked into our building this morning 100% male. She’s still got quite a bit of training left to do, but I think you can see the potential…”

“I don’t believe it!” Maxine says, shaking her head, “What are you trying to pull?”

“Go on. Feel her neck under the collar,” Miss Worthington says pushing you forward towards the women. You teeter on the heels only to be caught by Maxine. Her fingers probe your throat and press roughly against your Adam’s apple.

“I’ll be damned,” Maxine says, grabbing one of your breasts experimentally, “These aren’t real, are they?”

“Not yet,” Miss Worthington says. Your head whips around to look at her and she winks at you.

“Do you like looking like this?” the woman groping your breast asks.

“Yes Ma’am,” you say, curtseying. What else can you say? The word ‘no’ isn’t allowed in your vocabulary. “I’ll take him,” Maxine says, “How much longer does he need to train?”

You bite your lower lip. You’re being sold like a piece of meat.

“She still has a month left at least,” Miss Worthington says, “Probably more since she’s such a mouthy, little tramp.”

A month! Dear lord. As soon as they let you out of this chastity belt you are going to get just as far from this place as possible. This day alone feels like its lasted years.

“But fair warning,” Miss Worthington continues, “She’s going to be expensive. She’s getting bids on her already and like I said its only her first day.”

“Don’t worry. I can go pretty high,” Maxine says. Her eyes roll over you with an evil gleam. “I wanted a guy to be my secretary, but this is even better. Does he still have his…you know…equipment?”

Miss Worthington pulls up your skirt and raps her knuckles on your chastity belt.

“All tightly locked away. She can still use the bathroom, but there is NO room for any male impulses.” She drops your skirt back and you can’t help but cringe as another squirt of liquid soaks into your panties. This belt is intolerable. “And just like the belts we put on our girls, it keeps her in a perpetually horny state. Feel her panties…go on…remember you’re in charge.”

How can they be treating you like this? This can’t be legal!

The woman’s hand goes between your legs and your body betrays you and squirts.

“He’s soaking wet!” Maxine says laughing. You blush again in shame.

“But there’s no climax to it,” Miss Worthington says smiling, “Perpetual horniness with no conclusion. It makes them VERY docile.”

You pout as the ruffles on your panties cause another squirt. Docile!?! You feel like you’re about to explode!

“Well I’ve made up my mind,” Maxine says, “Email me when she’s ready for auction and I’ll place a bid.”

“Wonderful,” Miss Worthington says. She stands up and shakes hands with Maxine. “I’ll keep you up-to-date on her training. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thank you,” Maxine says, “Rebecca? Let’s go.”

The other woman doesn’t move.

“You said that Rita was the first guy you’ve ever done this to?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” Miss Worthington says, “She was hired as a clerical error and rather than deal with the potential sexual discrimination lawsuit, Miss Payne thought it best to…”

“Will you be training other males?” Rebecca interrupts.

Everyone is looking at Rebecca now, including you. She seems uncomfortable with the attention.

“I suppose we might. Rita seems to be turning out ok, so…”

“I’d like for you to train my husband…”

The room erupts into chaos. Her husband sputters behind her. Maxine laughs loudly and Miss Worthington chuckles.

“Now listen here…” her husband says, his voice nasal and whining, “If you think for one second that I would EVER dress up like this little fairy…” he points to you.

“Bradley! Shut up!” Maxine yells. He doesn’t even hear her.

“Is this what you want?” he screams, “Is this what you WANT? Fine. Take him. I’m out of here!”

He tries to go to the door and finds it has no handle. He wheels around, his eyes wide with panic and anger and storms back to Miss Worthington.

“Let me out of here!” he screams, “I want out of this place right n…”

Before you can blink, Miss Worthington has pulled the man’s arm behind his back and pushed him face down on top of her desk. He screams in outrage, but she twists his arm until it dies out.

“Now you will be silent while we discuss this,” she says softly into his ear. He whimpers, but says nothing else.

“Rebecca?” Maxine asks in a surprisingly soft voice, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why not?” Rebecca says coldly, “He’s not much use as he is. I think he could certainly use some…training”

Bradley whimpers under Miss Worthington’s grip.

“There are a few things you should know before you make this decision,” Miss Worthington says, “First of all, we train our girls for obedience. If you do this, the next time you see your husband, he won’t be your husband anymore…he’ll be your secretary.”

“I understand,” Rebecca says, her voice as cold as ice.

“Rebecca please…” Bradley moans, only to be cut off as Miss Worthington grinds his neck harder with her fingers.

“Secondly, it is our company policy that all of our girls go to auction. Bradley will be no different. Should you be outbid…”

Her words trail off and Maxine and Rebecca look at each other.

“You can have every cent of my auction money,” Maxine tells her, “We’ll get him back one way or the other.”

“No,” Rebecca says. Her voice is quivering, yet the coldness is still there. “We’ll pay a fair price. If we lose, then someone will obviously have more use for him than we do.”

Bradley begins to sob.

“Well if you’ve made up your mind…” Miss Worthington says.

“I have…”

“Rita, in my bottom left desk drawer is a length of cord. Fetch it for me.”

You curtsey and scamper to the desk. As you bend over to open the drawer, your eyes lock with Bradley, still bent over the desk. You feel horribly sorry for him, but what can you do?

Then you see it.

Sitting innocently on the top of Miss Worthington’s desk.

The keycard that opens the door. This could be your chance. She has her hands full with Bradley, and the other women aren’t in any position to stop you. You might be able to escape. The desk drawer is filled with stuff you’d rather not think about: handcuffs, gags, whips, paddles, collars. You make a mental note not to do anything wrong around Miss Worthington, ever again.

You bring the cord back to the other side of the desk, and in seconds, Miss Worthington has Bradley trussed up, his hands behind his back and tethered to his ankles. Only then does she let him up off the desk. The poor man can barely walk, not that he even tries. He just looks at his wife, big tears running down his face.

“Rebecca please…”

“Shhh,” Rebecca says, putting a finger to his lips, “This is for the best Bradley. It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll even like it.”

Maxine sniggers and Bradley’s face turns red with anger and outrage.

Before he can say anything though, the door bursts open and Miss Payne storms in.

“Ah, ladies, I’d like you to meet our secretarial manager, Miss Payne.”

They shake hands, while you and Bradley stand there, completely ignored.

“Bradley here has just been hired into the Pool. Will you be kind enough to escort him down to the break room and get him thoroughly orientated?”

“Of course,” Miss Payne says, grabbing a hold of Bradleys tied wrists, “I will need one of you ladies to come with me and fill out some paper work.”

“I’ll do it,” Maxine says. The woman has an evil smile on her face. “After all, what is a sister-in-law for?”

Miss Payne nods toward Miss Worthington. “And you might want to go clear this with the boss.”

“Yes I suppose so.” Miss Worthington says, “Rita, get Rebecca another drink and keep her company while we’re gone.”

You curtsey and hurry to the bar, even as they begin to file out of the room. You hear Bradley offer up one final, scared, “Rebecca?” before being escorted down the hall and out of sight. You bring Rebecca a glass of wine, and she takes it without a word. You stand there, unsure of what to do and time ticks by incredibly slow.

“Was I wrong to do that?” She asks softly, her eyes turn toward you and you see they’re filled with tears, “He was cheating on me, you know? I’ve known about it for months and I’ve done nothing.”

Now you feel sorry for her as well. She’s obviously pretty broken up about this. At the same time, she just gave her husband to this horrible company to turn into an office girl, just like you.

“Well?” she asks, her voice harder and angrier now, “Am I an evil person? Say something…”

“I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, ma’am,” you say softly.

Tears suddenly explode from her eyes and she bounds to her feet, wrapping her arms around you. You hug her as she weeps on your shoulder.

“He’ll be ok, right? Tell me he’ll be ok?”

“He’ll be ok,” you tell her patting her back softly.

Her tears slowly reign themselves back in and she pulls away. Her hand goes up and traces your cheek.

“You’re so sweet,” she sniffles, “If he turns out half as good as you…”

You blush and look away, unsure of what to say.

“You really are very pretty,” she says, stroking your hair, “I had no idea…that you were…are…I mean…”

“Stop crying this instant!”

The voice startles both of you and you turn to look.

“You can’t show them any weakness,” Miss Worthington says from the doorway. “They feed on it.”

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” Rebecca says, her voice trembling.

“Its too late for that now,” Miss Worthington says, “He’s signed the contract. All you can do now is learn how to stay in control.”

She dips her hand into the dreaded bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out a long length of chain. She calmly takes a step towards you with it and panic wraps itself tightly around your heart.

“Its about control, Rebecca,” she says striding over to you. You cringe away from her, but as the wall hits your back you realize there is nowhere to go. “They have to know that you’re in charge and that whatever you tell them to do…must be done without question.”

She opens a loop in the end of the chain and in one fluid movement, she slides it over your head. Your hands go to your neck in horror. The woman just put you on a leash!

“Now an important thing to remember, is to keep a commanding tone in your voice. Watch me. Rita! Hands and knees!”

“This can’t be happening,” you think as you slowly descend onto your hands and knees. The carpet is rough against your stocking-clad legs, and the waist-cincher forces you to keep your back straight.

“See what I mean?” Miss Worthington says, “Perfect obedience. If you let them see any weakness, all hope is lost.”

You look up miserably into the eyes of Rebecca. The cold, satisfaction you see in them chills you to the bone.

“Here,” she says tossing the end of your leash to Rebecca, “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out. Practice with Rita. Two sharp tugs on the leash will remind her who’s in charge. Remember. A firm voice.”

She sits at her desk, pulls out her keyboard and begins to type. Rebecca just looks at you for what seems like forever. Your eyes send pleading messages to her. How can they treat you like this?

“What should I have her do?” she asks, her voice no longer timid.

“Whatever you want. The stupid-little thing hasn’t been trained in much of anything yet, but she seems eager enough. Have her clean your shoes.”

Rebecca’s eyes sparkle.

“Rita! Come!” she says. Apparently you don’t move fast enough for her, because she instantly tugs on your leash. The chain cinches around your neck and you squeak in pain and scramble over to her on all fours. She’s not holding back. Your neck aches. You already know that whatever she asks of you, you’ll do without question.

She holds her shoe out in front of your face.

“Go on,” she says firmly, “Make them shine.”

You know what she wants. The collar digs into your neck and you can’t see anyway of getting it out of it.

Your face turns crimson as your tongue slowly extends and licks its way up the black leather pump. A rugged, meaty taste fills your mouth as you bathe the shoe in saliva.

Rebecca giggles in pleasure, and crosses her legs, giving you access to the other one. You begin work on the second one, thankful that her shoes really aren’t that dirty.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror behind the bar and blush with humiliation. The girl in the mirror is the picture of submission, her big puppy-dog eyes wide with fear and shame. You can’t help but watch the sexy, little secretary reflection as she kneels there. Her skirt draped across her sexy legs, her tongue coating the shoe with a glossy layer of saliva. And perhaps sexiest of all…

The chain leash around her neck.

You would kill to have a girl that looked like that on a leash between your legs. At the same time, never in a million years would you have thought to BE that girl.

You look down at the shoe you’re working on. It glistens in the light and you lick your lips trying to get the leathery taste out of your mouth.

The tip of her shoe tilts up and touches you under the chin, bringing your face up to look back at hers. She stairs at you for a minute and then in a voice as steady as stone she says, “Kiss it.”

You don’t hesitate. You press your lips against the shiny leather. She giggles with satisfaction.

“Oooh, I like this!” she tells Miss Worthington, “I like this a lot.”

“Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” Miss Worthington asks as she continues to type.

Rebecca smiles at you and pulls you gently over to kneel beside her legs. Her hand presses your face against her outer thigh and she pets your hair, running her fingers through it gently.

“Good girl,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension, “You’ve given me lots of good ideas for Bradley.”

You’re still kneeling beside her, your face in her lap when Maxine comes back in. She sits beside Rebecca. She glances at you curiously, but says nothing.

“We need to make some decisions about Bra…I mean Crystal.”

Your mind flashes back to the break room. Poor Bradley got the locker next to yours.

“Crystal,” Rebecca chuckles, “I like that. How very…ditzy.”

“Yeah, fitting, ain’t it?” Maxine laughs. “Anyway, he’s gonna need some surgery to fit in around here…he’s not quite as naturally girly as your lapdog I guess.”

The hand in your hair pats your head and you wince. You’re NOT girly…THEY’VE made you look like this.

“They’re gonna do some massive stuff on his face, but they’re going to let us decide what we want his body to look like. Here, I have samples.”

She shows Rebecca the sheet of paper in her hand. You stare at it in horror. They wouldn’t really turn Bradley into THAT would they?

“So we could give him an hourglass figure…basically big tits, tiny waist, big ass. Or this one here might be fun. Get this, they call it bootylicious…they leave the top small, shrink the waist and then SERIOUSLY pump up his backside. Or there’s this one here. Top Heavy. They leave the lower part alone and over-emphasize the tits…”

“Poor Bradley,” Rebecca giggles, “He’s going to be VERY popular isn’t he?”

“She,” Miss Worthington says without looking up. This causes the other two women to laugh loudly.

“What do YOU think, Rita,” Rebecca asks you in that puppy-dog voice, “Which one do YOU think is sexy?”

She lightly tugs on your collar and you sputter out your answer. Rebecca laughs again, which sets Maxine off giggling.

“Can you just picture Bradley with a body like this?” Maxine says through her laughter.

“Crystal, you mean…” Rebecca says, “Yes, I think she’s going to be a very popular girl.”

“So you’ve made a decision?” Miss Worthington says, moving towards them from her desk.

“Oh yes,” Rebecca says, “We think Crystal needs an hourglass figure.”

“A good choice,” Miss Worthington says, “…and what about your little lapdog there? I’m supposed to send a body-type recommendation for her later this afternoon, but since you’ve taken a liking to her…”

You stare up in horror. First your eyes go to Miss Worthington, who looks at you as if you’re completely insignificant. Then as the panic sets in your eyes dart back to Rebecca. She stares down at you with cold satisfaction.

“Well it seems to me that since she helped decide what Crystal should look like, that she should look the same…”

You start to protest in anger, but the jerk on your collar turns it into a sob and then a whimper. They can’t seriously be talking about giving you surgery! This can’t be happening!

“Very good,” Miss Worthington says, “You’re starting to get the hang of this.”

The other two ladies stand and you scramble on all fours as Rebecca steps forward, to keep the chain from cinching around your neck.

“The auction for both Rita here, as well as Crystal, should be in about two weeks. I’ll email you with an exact date as soon as I have one.

The ladies shake hands and Rebecca hands Miss Worthington your leash.

“Thanks for this,” Rebecca says, indicating you, “You’re doing a very good job with her.”

“Thank you,” Miss Worthington says, “I think she’ll turn out just fine.”

The women head toward the reception area and you scramble madly to keep up, the carpet rough against your knees. Before you can get through the door, Miss Worthington slips the end of your leash over the outside of the door handle and maneuvers the door shut. The chain leash slides down into the space beneath the door, and as the latch clicks you find yourself trapped, unable to raise your head more than a foot off the floor. You try to pull away from the door, but the other end is firmly attached to the doorknob on the opposite side of the door. You whimper in frustration and mounting dread. They can’t really give you plastic surgery, can they?

But then again, this morning you wouldn’t have thought they could have made you look like a beautiful girl and chained you on all fours, tied to a door. Tears begin to trickle down your face as you wait for Miss Worthington to come back. What else can you do?

Your neck is starting to ache from being held so close to the floor when the door finally opens again.

Miss Worthington steps in, grabbing the end of your leash off the door knob with a yank and pulling you over to her desk.

“You did well, Rita,” she says sitting down, “Not perfect by any means, but good for your first day.”

She tugs on your collar and you find yourself pressing your cheek up against her leg. The soft stocking caresses your cheek even as her hand runs through your long, blonde hair.

“So would you like to belong to them, Rita?” she asks softly, “I think Rebecca took a big liking to you. And just think…soon you and her husband will both be the same shape…”

Your mind flashes back to your lessons. “No” is a forbidden word, so what choice do you really have. You nod your head and mumble a tiny “yes, ma’am”. Hard to believe you took that horrible computer quiz only a few hours ago. Will this day ever be over?

Miss Worthington just chuckles and caresses your face softly.

“You’re doing VERY well, Rita,” she says, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and Rebecca will get top bid.”

You shiver uncontrollably at the thought. They’re going to turn you into a girl. Can they REALLY do something like that? This is slavery. They can’t really SELL you. You’re a person. A human being.

You look up at Miss Worthington’s face and the expression tells you all you need to know. If you stay here, trapped as you are, you will be sold. You’ll no longer be a person with rights, you’ll be a thing. A slave. A GIRL slave. You tremble, even as the prisoner between your legs spurts not once but twice.

“…please…” you whisper in a voice that is unmistakably girlie, “…please…I don’t want to do this…to be this…I don’t want to have surgery…”

She laughs, her hand smacking your ass playfully.

“So what’s good enough for Crystal, isn’t good enough for you, eh?” she says pinching your cheek. You feel like crying. Crystal. You should have tried to help him…her…whatever. But now you’re both trapped here.

“You don’t want big, luscious breasts that everyone will stare at as you enter the room?” she asks, her voice mocking. “You don’t want big, squeezable tits bursting out of your blouse? Oh, Rita, I’m disappointed. You’re not half the slut I thought you were.”

You pluck at your skirt nervously with your fingers, the soft fabric caressing your legs as gently as her hand touches your cheek.

“Shh,” she says, “Its all right, Rita. You’ve had a busy day, and if you keep talking that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

Tears begin to trickle from your eyes as you shake your head miserably. No more trouble. Please no.

“Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use girl,” she says, the kindness still in her voice but coupled with something new. A cold hardness. “Get under the desk, Rita. Before you say something you’ll regret.”

You squeeze under her desk, trapped by the modesty panel and the low, keyboard shelf. You squirm around the other direction to face her, desperate for air and open space. What you see causes your eyes to go wide.

Miss Worthington is on her feet. You can only see her from the knees down, the desk above your head obscuring your view. What captures your attention so completely is the sight of her baby-blue panties easing down her legs with no help other than gravity. They pool around her feet and you watch as she easily steps out of them.

This can’t be happening.

Miss Worthington sits on the edge of her chair, her legs spread slightly. You see just a hint of something under her skirt before she rolls up to the desk, her legs sliding on either side of you. As her crotch zooms inward, you realize that you’re trapped, your arms pinned by her legs.

“Go on girl,” she says, her muffled voice sounding far and distant, “Do your job.”

Unable to help yourself, you pucker your lips into a kiss, even as she pulls your face in towards her opening. Her wet and swollen clitoris slides between your lips and you gently begin to kiss and suck on it. She writhes in pleasure, little, muffled moans of pleasure come from above the desk and the trapped member between your legs throbs in harmony with your kisses.

“Enjoying your new assistant?” a muffled voice says from somewhere across the room. Miss Worthington’s hand grabs hold of your hair, holding your head firmly in place.

“You better believe it,” she says, “She’s still untrained but she shows great…” she shudders as your lips brush across her. “…potential.”

“Have you decided on her modifications?”

“I’ve decided we should make her C-Cup. But push it a little bit, make her just a little more extreme.”

“Agreed,” says the other voice. The conversation gets muffled as Miss Worthington’s thighs clamp around your head. You feel her body convulse in orgasm even as your brain screams in your head. How can this be happening? How have you ended up under your boss’ desk, pleasuring her as she discusses altering your body to look like a girl?

“…try her out later,” the other voice is saying as her thighs release your head, “After you’ve had the opportunity to fully train her.”

“Of course,” Miss Worthington says, “Tomorrow. Stop by and I’ll let you take her for a ride.”

You hear the door shut behind the visitor but your mind is elsewhere. She must be crazy if she thinks you’re still going to be here tomorrow. The first opportunity you get, you’re getting out of this madhouse. If only you could get this infernal chastity belt off…

“Did I say you were finished?” Miss Worthington barks above you. She squeezes your head with her legs again. “Keep going. Slowly. I’ve got a report to file about you.”

You close your eyes and focus on pleasing her, even as you hear the tap-tap-tap of her keyboard directly above your head. The second orgasm comes quickly. The third one, however, takes you to the task.

You have no idea how much time has passed, only that your mouth aches from pleasuring her and your legs tingle as they begin to wake up. Her last orgasm had lasted seemingly forever. Your head still hurts from the pressure her thighs exerted.

As she rolls her chair backward, you scramble out quickly. She smiles at you as you wobble to your feet, your legs unsteady and asleep.

“Well at last we’ve found something you’re good at,” she says. The woman is practically glowing with post-coital bliss, “I can see now why everyone is bidding on you.”

You shiver, your head hung in submission. They’re bidding on you like you’re a slave. It’s as if you’re not even a human being, but only an object. A toy…

“You really are a sexy little thing aren’t you?” she purrs, uncoiling herself from her chair, “Just wait until we give you a little more…shaping…” She grabs your breasts and squeezes hard enough to cause you to squeak with pain. “But don’t worry, little Rita. I’m sure you’ll come to like the changes.”

She moves around behind you and runs her hands around your stomach possessively. One hand slides upward back toward your breast, while her other hand creeps the other direction.

“You already like some of it, don’t you Rita?” her voice is a whisper in your ear.

You nod your head. You don’t even know if you’re answering the question or just nodding to keep her hand between your legs. Pleasure shoots through you as she tickles your thighs, rubbing you through your thoroughly soaked panties. You moan, arching your back against her, feeling her soft, hot breath on your neck.

Why are you acting like this? Is this what you really are? A wanton slut more easily turned on than a bitch in heat? You shiver as her fingers twirl around the tiny hole in the belt. You hear a soft feminine whimpering that is so loud in your head that it can only be coming from your own voice.

Her hot body presses against you. You can feel her breasts, soft and supple against your back. It’s too much.

You whimper again, grinding against her hand. You NEED release. You have to have it.

“I can do anything I want to you, Rita,” she whispers, “Tie you up, strip you down, use you any way I want to…”

You shudder at her words, even as your body betrays you and squirts again against her hand. You’re almost there, just a little bit more…

“I can make you beg…or cry…or moan…”

As if on cue, the whimpering moan escapes your lips. You’re there. You made it. Finally a release, despite the damned belt.

You tremble waiting for the wash of pleasure that you’ve been building to ALL day.

It doesn’t come.

The thing between your legs squirts out spurt after spurt of creamy fluid and there is no satisfaction. No sense of relief. And worse…

Worse, her hand CONTINUES to stimulate you.

“NO!” you cry out in agony before reverting back to your muttered whimperings, “…no…no…”

“Still horny, aren’t you slut?” Miss Worthington snickers into your ear, “We can’t have you satisfied, can we?”

Her hand continues to stimulate, working your body up again to its fevered pitch. If anything you’re even more desperate now. How can there not be ANY sense of climax…of release…

“It must be especially bad for you ‘new’ girls though,” Miss Worthington whispers, “I can only imagine how…frustrating…it must be. All that build up with no…payoff…”

Impossibly, you pass the point again, squirting ineffectually over and over and STILL no satisfaction. Liquid streams down your legs and you know her fingers must be covered, but despite the discharge you’re still uncontrollably horny. Every little twitch of her hand now sends tingles through your body and you moan in agony.

Then the hand withdraws and you writhe in uncomforted frustration. The belt HAS to come off. You can’t take it anymore.

“…please…” you whimper, “…please…get it off…I need it off…I can’t take it…”

“What and ruin the fun?” she laughs. She plops one of her fingers into your pleading mouth and you taste your own juices on it. “Besides. Only Miss Payne has the key, and she should be here any…”

As if on cue, Miss Payne bursts into the room. The thought that SHE can get this infernal belt off of you overpowers ANY negative feeling you have for her.

“Speak of the devil,” Miss Worthington laughs, “She’s all yours as soon as she cleans me up a little.”

The finger in your mouth wiggles and you wrap your lips around it. The disgust at having to clean your own juice off her fingers is overpowered by your need to follow Miss Payne and get this horrible belt off. Then you’ll be free. You can go home and try and forget this whole HORRIBLE day!

A second finger slides into your mouth, then the third. Then with a slightly painful smack on your ass, she pulls away.

“I’ll come see you after surgery tomorrow, Rita,” she says grinning, “She’s getting the C package, Payne.”

Miss Payne just snickers and rolls her eyes. You shiver at the thought, but they must be crazy if they think you’re EVER coming back to this place again. Contract or not, you’re finished.

You can’t help but fidget back and forth like an excited puppy as Ms. Payne hands Miss Worthington a stack of papers and asks about your performance. You listen to the humiliating account of what happened, barely able to focus at all. Can’t this woman hurry up!

“Well then,” Miss Payne says shaking her head at your fidgeting, “Let me get this horny little slut downstairs before she wets herself again.”

You’re so grateful that you curtsey, which only makes them laugh for some reason.

“Bye Rita,” Miss Worthington says, “See you tomorrow.”

You curtsey to her, almost while you’re moving behind Miss Payne.

You follow her back down the twisty hallway. When you see Becky in the elevator your face lights up into a smile. Everything seems so much better now that its five o’clock. Now that you’re going home.

Becky smiles back at you and you feel a sudden kinship with the girl. After all, with everything you’ve gone through today, you DO have a kinship with her. The elevator door slides shut and the three of you rocket back to floor number nine.

The elevator door opens to reveal the now-familiar corridor. What felt so strange and scary six hours earlier, now feels safe and welcoming. You hurry as fast as the heels allow toward the break room. The lockers; the place to get out of these ridiculous clothes. Then you can go home and never come back. Not to mention getting out of the HORRIBLE belt.

You feel disgusting. Your own juice is dripping down your legs, your panties are doing NOTHING to contain it anymore. Your mouth tastes of…

You shudder at the thought of what this place has made you do…against your will…helpless to stop it… Will you ever feel clean again?

Miss Payne opens the door. Becky scurries inside and you’re hot on her heels, eager for the final stage of the day. What you see stops you in your tracks. All around you, beautiful women are peeling out of uniforms just like yours…Some are bare breasted, others are down to just their corsets and stockings. Each one a Playboy Centerfold in the flesh.

You start to shake even as Becky peels off her blouse and bra and bounces over to her locker.

You’re supposed to undress in front of these girls!

They’re all going to find out you’re a guy! They’re going to know the horrible, slutty things you’ve done all day…and they’re going to think you WANTED to do them. Your legs start to give way…

You feel Miss Payne’s hand on your back, her lips near your ears.

“Strip down, Rita.” Her hand squeezes your neck and then propels you forward; towards the locker with your ‘name’ on it. Your hand trembles as you open it, your eyes dart back and forth to the eye-candy on either side of you. The blond to your left gives you a smile to die for and your panties fail to contain a squirt so big you imagine that you can hear it. Your eyes drift down to the bra the girl wears, and the two massive globes it holds. For a fraction of a second you feel inadequate…envious…jealous…and then you shake yourself out of it. You’ve got to get out of here. Back into your male clothing before the lunatics here actually GIVE you breasts like that…

You open the locker and peer inside. The blood drains from your face.

Your regular clothes aren’t there. Just two plastic packages that seem to have clean versions of the uniform you’re wearing now and three frilly, satiny things, identical except for color. You reach out and touch first the pink one, then the red one and then the black one. The material is so sensual that you shudder. You can’t imagine actually wearing it…

The thought lasts for just a second…the image of sliding it over your now smooth skin and feeling the material makes your body dance…then the thought disappears and reality sets in.

How the hell are you supposed to get home without your clothes? Worse, do they actually expect you to change into this flimsy little nightie thing? You look around and see all the other girls are slipping into them…and then lining up at the door. What the hell is going on here? Will this nightmare never end! You glare at Miss Payne and she meets your glare. With only her eyes she asks you the question: Will you change into your nightie like a good girl, or create a scene?!?

Your fingers are trembling so badly you can barely get the buttons of your blouse undone. It feels like every eye in the room is on you…and you’re not far from wrong. The girls who have already changed, watch you with eagerness…and annoyance. Wherever you’re being taken next, some of them are eager to go.

By the time you have your skirt off, you’re one of three girls still changing…the other two dozen wait…and WATCH…

Then it dawns on you…you can’t get your shoes off. The horrible things are locked on…And the corset you’re in…the one pushing up your chest into your tiny breasts…if you take that off…then they’ll all know!

You glance at the two girls still changing…one of them is nude except for her lacy pink panties, stockings and shoes…also locked on you notice. That solves that question at least…you glance at the skinny brunette to your right…She is slipping the satin nightie over the top of the corset.

Part of you is relieved. You won’t have to reveal your true nature to the rest of these girls…

Then a different realization sinks in: You have to keep wearing this stupid corset thing for an undetermined amount of time…

The two girls who were still dressing slip into line. All eyes are on you now. You see Becky, her eyes wide with irritation. Her lips soundlessly word: ‘Hurry up’.

Wincing you reach into your locker and pull out a nightie…

You slide the silky, pink nightie over your head. The material drifting down over your sensitive skin makes you squirm. It feels so slinky against your arms and back and tickles your thighs as it hits them for the first time.

You hurry into the line, eager to get all the eyes off of you. You can’t help but notice how exposed you are now with each and every step you take. You try not to think about it, but your eyes find the girl in line in front of you. You can’t help but study the outfit you are all crammed into.

The outfit falls high on the thigh, barely covering the bottom of the girl’s backside and not coming close to covering the stockings or garter straps. It hugs all of her curves, which are VERY noticeable. The back is cut low, the straps narrow to emphasize the girl’s shoulder blades. And the front…

The front dips down low enough to show the cleavage of a Hooters Girl.

The thing in your belt betrays you again and you wince…then you remember that you’re dressed exactly like this girl…you feel the outfit hug YOUR curves…show off YOUR body…and you squirt again! Every tiny move you make, causes your body to betray you making you more and more horny. You hear a mewling whimper coming from your own throat. You’d do anything to be let out of the belt and that realization frightens you even more. The elevator zooms downward. You have absolutely no idea what to expect. Your mind is barely even working at this point. The sexual tension coursing through your body makes thinking an impossibility. Not only are the clothes you’ve been crammed into stimulating your poor trapped crotch, but you are standing shoulder to shoulder with two dozen girls dressed like lingerie models. You can feel the heat coming off of them, every move causing skin and satin to caress you.

The elevator doors open. You don’t know what floor you’ve landed on, but it’s below the lobby. The car is too crammed full of buxom distractions for you to get a good glimpse of the control panel either. You do know one thing. You’re below ground now.

You feel like a cow in the center of a herd as you are ushered out of the elevator and down yet another hallway. This one is not nearly as nice as the ones that were upstairs. There are no paintings, mirrors or decorations on the walls. They are stark, and no-nonsense.

As the group of you are ushered down the hallway, the clump straightens itself into a line. All of you marching behind Queen Lemming Payne. You watch the girls ahead of you, trying not to focus on how much the stupid skimpy outfit you’re wearing is causing the thing in your belt to ache. The other girls are silent. There’s no giggling, talking or even a whisper. It is almost eerie. The only sound is the heels clicking in near-unison on the hard floor as the group of you march to whatever degrading hell is next.

Your eyes drop to the backside of the girl in front of you. The heart-shaped globes shifting in the tight satiny material only inches from you causes another squirt down below and liquid oozes down your legs. Your panties have hit maximum saturation point. They will hold no more. You wince as the liquid creeps downward, hitting the top of your left stocking.

The strange procession of flesh continues to the end of the hallway, where the whole group of you are loaded onto another elevator…this one isn’t nearly as nice as the previous one. As you’re crammed in, you maneuver yourself towards the front so you can see the control panel. The first obvious thing you notice is that this elevator car is also key-card activated. The second thing you notice is that you’re currently on the top floor, despite that you are already below ground…and there are a LOT of buttons on this thing, labeled with the alphabet instead of numbers. You watch with both fear and curiosity as the letters progress, the downward motion of the car symbolic of the way your day has gone.

The car stops moving at letter J. You count it off in your head. . . J is 10 floors, you’re at LEAST 10 floors below ground!

The doors open to reveal yet another hallway which opens up into a series of bunk beds. At least 10 or 15 on each side. At the very end, the barracks opens up into a small alcove with a few tables and chairs. The walls are a pink color, stark and undecorated save for a single word painted in flowery cursive right by the elevator door: Jiggles.

“Jiggles’ out!” Payne barks.

“Good luck. Keep your head down and try not to get involved with anything,” The voice is soft next to your ear. You turn your head to see Nikki leaving moving slowly forward as girls file out of the car. It seems like such a long time ago that you were lusting after her in the lobby.

“What’s a Jiggle?” you whisper back.

“My last name silly, Nikki Jiggles. Don’t worry, you’ll get one soon.” Then she is beyond whispering distance and is moving out the door, leaving you with no one but Miss Payne and a handful of scantily clad strangers.

Even as the elevator starts down again, you can’t get over it. They’ve renamed these poor girls with sexual names. They’re going to rename YOU! You’re going to be assigned a last name. A horrible, sexually teasing last name!

There are only three girls left when the door opens on S.

“Swallows! Rita . . . your last name is Swallows. This is your floor. Bed number eight is yours.” You let yourself be pushed out by the other girls who also are getting out on this floor. They ignore you completely for the most part, hurrying toward the end of the hallway, toward the identical lounge area that each floor has with one or two girls peeling out to find their bunk. Swallows? You feel the blush deepen on your cheeks. That’s your last name now. Rita Swallows? They can’t REALLY be serious. Who will ever take you seriously with a name like that. You sound like a porn star. You nibble your lower lip, as you catch site of yourself in the chrome surface of the elevator. You look like a porn star too. And with a name like Swallows everyone will think…

A tightness has formed in your stomach. Your name is now Rita Swallows. You’ve lost your identity completely and been given this horrible new one.

You stagger slightly down the hallway, your legs shaking from this new situation almost as much as having to walk in the heels. Why should being given yet another embarrassing name affect you so deeply?

Your heart is beating hard in your chest and you’re having trouble breathing. You’re trapped. Trapped in this sexually, submissive hell. You have no way of getting back to the ground level and even if you did, all of your identification is gone. All that is left is Rita Swallows. You’re having trouble getting your breathing under control as the true panic sets in. You blink back tears, wanting to scream for help, wanting to beg everyone and anyone for release… not just from the horrid place itself but from the sexual torment that is still oozing down your leg. If you don’t cum soon…

You take a tentative step and then another. The hall opens up into a giant room with two-level bunks on either side. Bed eight is on the bottom right in the middle of the room. At the end of the row of beds is a small gathering area where a handful of other girls have gathered together, giggling and talking together.

“Shhh. New meat.”

You blush uncontrollably, knowing that each and every eye of this small huddled group of girls is now staring at you. Staring at you in your little pink outfit. Each girl in the group is a pinup wet dream. Worse so are you!

“Hi, I’m…”

“You’re the new Rita. We KNOW!” The blonde’s voice drips with condescension. “Is it just me or could this one skip the bimbo training?”

The other girls giggle, turning their backs to you and going back to their huddled whispering. Anger boils up in you and tears well uncontrollably in your eyes. You blink them back, even angrier at yourself at the wetness creeping down your cheeks. You’re even behaving like a girl now. What has this place done to you.

You turn to go find a bed, feeling very out of place, every step an uncertainty. Your heart is beating so hard that it must be trying to escape your chest. Claustrophobia has kicked in, along with fear and anger and that never-ending arousal that just won’t go away. Your hand snakes down between your legs and you pry at the belt, tears free flowing now. You need it off. If you could just get control of this horniness maybe you could think clearly enough to figure out a way out of this infernal hell. Your fingers find the tiny hole that allows you to pee, and you desperately try to stimulate yourself through it. No luck. You pull and pry and twist and nothing moves. Nothing but a pitiful throb from within it that coats your hands with slime. You cry harder, sinking to your knees. The stockings and robe caress as you go, aggravating the problem. You’re in a sensual prison of torture where every move makes it worse.

The hand on your shoulder makes a soft cry escape through your slick pink lips.

“Don’t cry, Rita,”. A dark-skinned Goddess stands above you, offering her hand to help you stand up. You clasp it and stagger awkwardly to your feet, barely able to make your legs work in the horrid heels.

“See girls,” your new friend says sweetly, “She wants to escape too. You won’t spoil our plans will you sweetie?” She turns to you, bringing you into the small, huddled group. They all look at you suspiciously.

You shake your head rapidly. No. No no no no no. They gaze at you with more suspicion.

“…please…” you beg them, “I have to get out of here, I’m not really a…”

“A slut?” the condescending blonde laughs, “Tell that to the big wet spot on the front of your nightie.” The girls all giggle as you look down horrified. Your arousal has led to a huge wet stain on the front of your outfit. You gasp, covering it with your hands. You blush uncontrollably again, knowing that your current position makes you look all the more like a pinup model caught in a compromising position.

“Bridget! Be nice!”

The words are barked hard and demanding from your new friend. She puts a comforting arm around you. “This is Rita’s first day. You remember YOUR first day don’t you?”

Tears start to well again, this time from gratitude that at least you’re not alone…at least you have someone sticking up for you for the first time today.

“We’re planning our escape tonight, Rita! Are you in?” Your new friend smiles warmly at you, and you nod. Anything to get out of this horrible place. Despite the glaring of Bridget, you’re brought into the huddle.

“Here’s the plan. There’s a new, investing couple staying in the suites tonight. Mr. Manning said he’ll be checking in down here. Bridget and Tanya will swipe one of their keycards, and then we’ll take the service elevators up to the basement. From their we can use the maintenance tunnels which lead to the park and we’ll be out of this crazy place. I know a guy… who’ll get us out of these belts and then we’re free!”

Hope fills your chest. Thank God you get to be a part of this. You’ve got to get out!

“What do I need to do?” Your voice is a timid whisper.

“You…” your new mentor says solemnly, “You are going to be the distraction.”

A shudder. You don’t like the sound of that at all.

There’s no time for thought. Behind you the elevator dings and you hear that blonde bitch Bridget say, “Show time!”

“…wait…”, but your words are lost in the hubbub. You’re ushered over to the elevator by several sets of hands just in time to see the doors slowly slide open. Inside are two people, one male, one female. Both are dressed impeccably, although the woman seems to be somewhat on the tardy side with her short skirt and obvious breast implants. The man’s eyes glimmer as he sees the feast of femininity standing in front of him. You shudder knowing you’re part of this feast.

“I was told to ask for Lynda.” His voice cuts through the silent thrall of girls standing in a huddle around the door. Your eyes dart back and forth and then widen as your new friend steps forward.

“I’m Lynda. I understand you need a Toy for the night.”

The man smiles like a wolf and nods. The woman to his right looks at him for a second and then drops her eyes, her cheeks turning a vibrant red.

Lynda leans over to you and whispers softly in your ear. “Seduce him and we’ll try to get the keycard.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head. What!?! You stare into the elevator and suddenly realize that all the other girls have stepped back away from Lynda and yourself.

“This is Rita.” Lynda drags you forward toward the elevator door. “See if she’s to your liking.”

THIS is the plan!?! You have to flirt with this couple to distract them? Your legs grow weak and you nibble on your lower lip unsure what exactly to do.

“Hi, I’m Rita. How may I make your day better?” You say the expected greeting automatically, blinking a little too much which just flutters your long eyelashes. Lynda nudges you forward and you stagger into the elevator practically falling into his arms. He catches you with ease, but doesn’t let go. You look up at him, helplessly. Nothing for it. Time to turn on the charm and maybe, just maybe, they’ll get his keycard and you’ll get out of this crazy place.

“Oooh thank you sir.” You try to purr it at him, giving him what you can only hope is a sexy pout. “I’m such a klutz and these heels are soooo high.”

You give him a little giggle, and inside a part of you dies. Why are you doing this? How have they turned you into this stupid flirting bimbo so easily?

“What can I do to thank you for catching me?” You gasp at your own forwardness even as the words leave your lips. It’s a good show. Now if you can just disentangle yourself from him. Surely that was enough time. What more could they possibly expect from you?

“This one will do fine, Lynda. Thank you.”


You squirm in his grip to turn toward Lynda your face a panic. She smiles at you. It is not a nice smile.

“Enjoy her, sir. You’re quite lucky. She’s a virgin.”

You whimper and then sob. What is going on? What happened to the plan?

You squirm out of his grip and take a step out of the elevator toward Lynda who still smiles at you like a cat at a canary.

“The plan…” you hiss at her desperately.

She leans forward and kisses your cheek, whispering seductively into your ear.

“There is no plan, you stupid slut. There is no escape. Someone had to go with this asshole tonight and you won the lottery. Do what he says and maybe you won’t get ripped in two. I hear he’s huge…

With a soft shove she sends you careening back into the elevator. He catches you again, even as the doors begin to slide shut.

“…no…” the words drift past your lips even as the evil, grinning faces of all of the other girls disappear behind the doors.

You are dragged through a labyrinthine maze of corridors, elevators and reception rooms. He has you by the wrist as if you were a small child, the horrid heels making you prance along behind him taking thousands of steps to his very few. Your heels click loudly in your ears as you scurry after him, and you find yourself envying the sandals that the woman walking alongside you wears. The trip is a whirlwind blur, never an opportunity for escape. Not that your mind is capable of much rational thought. How did you end up in this position?

Your eyes keep finding his hand gripped around your wrist. Your arm looks so small and feminine in his grasp, the body connected to it can’t possibly be yours.

Then with a swipe of a key and a flurry of movement you find yourself at the final destination. Your hand goes to your mouth to cover the whimper that escapes.

You’re in what can only be a hotel suite…

“Always late!” I grumbled between my teeth as I am waiting for you to arrive.

I feel so shy yet so aroused around you. Every second is a dilemma between my desires and my conscience, and I know the conscience’s reign is getting closer and closer to its end.

As usual, the conversation gets on the subject of sex. It’s like it’s in the air when we’re around one another. As you describe some of your past adventures, my dick almost hardens to the idea of going down on you.

We’re looking at each other in the eyes and I can’t take it anymore. I push you against the wall and kiss you passionately. My hands quickly find your ass and I pick you up to sit you on the table, my lips never leaving yours.

I couldn’t careless if there’s people around, the only quest on my mind is making you cum. I kiss your neck and slide my hands under your shirt to feel your incredible breasts through your bra.

How I wish I could simply slide it off right then and there to tickle your nipples with my tongue.

I feel my dick start to harden and suggest that we go back to my place. Looking at the bulge in my pants, you know what’s on my mind and quickly nod before caressing my growing pole.

I grab you by the hand and we quickly make our way to the metro. We sit immediately when we step in, my hands go back under your shirt and we kiss madly again. We never even looked to see if there was someone else in the wagon. You unbuckle my belt and slide your hand in my pants to grab my cock which is screaming for attention.

I want you so bad at this point. You stroke my cock up and down and I slide a hand between your legs over your pants. You moan lightly between breaths. I can feel your wetness and I know that you want me badly too.

You break our kiss to look around – no one’s in your wagon. You pull down my zipper and my hard dick goes flying out. I lean back as you grab a hold of it again.

“Ooooh shit baby yeah!” I whisper slowly.

You kiss me again and lick your lips before kneeling in front of me. I know exactly what’s coming and I grow harder in anticipation. In a single movement you take my tool inside your mouth and lick the underneath part on the way up.

It feels so good I wonder if I’m not going to cum right then. The feeling is surreal. You suck my cock for a few minutes and to my great pleasure nobody boards our wagon until we’ve almost reached my station.

We stay put until we’ve passed my front door and then the frenzy begins. My shirt goes flying immediately before yours and I’m finally able to get a glance at your wonderful breasts. Without loosing a moment I satisfy my desires and plunge my face into them while unhooking your bra. I kiss and tickle every inch of your breasts and your hand goes below my belt. I slide your bra off each arm as you once again whip out my hard tool.

I really wanna fuck you but I’ve got other ideas before. We move downstairs to my bedroom when I remove your pants as I lay you down on the bed. You’re so sexy just lying on your back in your string.

I drop my pants and my boxers fully exposing my long and thick shaft. You grab it and stroke it again. My mouth goes back to your right nipple and I slide my right hand under your panties and push the middle finger inside you. You let out a moan.

I slowly pull out my finger and slide your underwear off. I finally get in between your legs and gentle rub my lips against yours. I kiss and brush against your twat before inserting two fingers fiercely inside of you.

I tickle your clit with the tip of my tongue and you shiver. I penetrate you with it and I gently suck on your love button while still fucking you with two fingers.

After your body trembles in orgasm, I stand up and grab a condom in my drawer. I place myself in front of you and roll it down my striving pole.

In one stroke I push the full length of my dick inside of you and you scream. I slowly pull out my shaft in one long motion and I come crashing down on you again. You scream when my cock reaches the bottom of your pussy.

I begin ramming you fiercely. I bury each of my thrust ’till my balls and you’re loving it. Your breath increases rapidly and your hands move rapidly from your tits to my ass.

Your pussy is so hot. I slow down a bit to catch my breath and you ask me not to tease you, to give it to you hard again.

Still inside of you, I roll you on top of me and flip you so you’re facing my feet. You quickly understand that I want you to take the lead and you crouch on top of me to ram me better. I move up and down to meet your thrust and you moan loudly in ecstasy.

I place my hands on your waist to fuck you better and you lean back. I give it to you rapidly and you’re loving it.

Suddenly, you collapse on me. You’re out of breath but I know you haven’t cum. I push you to your stomach and stand up behind you. You lift your ass up to the height of my penis and rub your moist twat against it.

I grab it and push it inside you again. This new entry is even hotter than before. I know I can’t sustain this much longer so begin ramming you with reckless abandon. You scream with every thrust and I’m now playing with your clit with my middle finger again.

Your hand finds my sack and it takes me over the top. I pound you with all my strength as I cum in a load moan. The felling of my explosion on your pussy walls takes you over the edge as well.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m cumming!” you scream.

I fill my hands with your tits and hold your nipples between my fingers. I’m now fucking you with all the remaining of my energy and I can feel your muscles contracting around my cock.

In a load moan you collapse on the bed and seconds later I collapse with you.

I want you. You press my body against the wall and pin my wrists to it with your strong hands. Your steaming lips kiss my neck and nibble my ear. I am becoming terribly excited and I know you are too.

I can feel your hot member in your pants pressed against my leg. My hips are bucking into you. I move what little I can because of your strong grip, up and down. Even with just centimeters between us. I need you closer, I need you deep within me. I moan and exert my hot breath into your ear and lightly bite the lobe and suck on it. You move my arms and wrists near my sides and move your mouth onto my right breast. You bite it through my shirt.

I am trembling and shots of pleasure flow through my spine. I can smell our sweat and sex in the air.

You toss me onto my bed and start tearing off my shirt. You take your tongue and outline my bra on my trembling skin and take it off. I pull your shirt over your head, massaging your muscles as I go. I get on top of you and sit on the bulge in your jeans. I trace it with my index finger and sweep my hand back and forth. I slowly unzip your zipper and unbutton your jeans. I pull it out and start caressing it. You are already hard and your throbbing cock is pulsing in my hands.

I straddle your legs and lick the head of your cock. I trace one of the veins down the shaft with my tongue. I take it in my mouth. You run your hands through my hair. I squeeze your pulsating sack and pinch it together. I run my other hand down your side past your hips almost to your knee and my fingers dance the entire way. I can barely fit your massive cock in my mouth, it is so wide. I can imagine you in me; my pussy would feel so full! I take you deeper into my mouth. All nine inches would be quite a feat. Mhmm…

I start pulling back, slow at first and then faster and faster. Your cock becomes redder and I know you are about to cum. I take your hands in mine and hold them to the bed. I stop sucking on you and you moan for me to finish. I lick the tip of your dick and I can tell that you are in pain.

Once again I take the first few inches in and circle the tip with my tongue. Your face is red and your hips are bucking. How good it would feel to have you in me now, me riding you hard and fast. Your enormous dick fucking my tight, wet pussy. I take it back in and finish sucking you off. You cum in my mouth and then pull out and finish off on my tits. Your hot load tastes so good. You get on top of me and kiss me. I can feel your dick still erect on my stomach. I reach for it and start stroking it again. You take my hands and hold them near my head on the pillows. You move your head down between my tits and slowly move your tongue from my sternum to my jugular which makes me moan.

You pick a spot on my right breast and suck on it. I can feel your hot breath on my tits and I can feel the wetness between my legs. You stop and a red mark has appeared, hmmm… You circle my nipples in a spiral pattern until you reach each one. You out your lips onto it and circle it with your tongue until I beg you to stop. You do the same on my right nipple, both are red and erect now. Oh how bad I want you to pound my wet pussy. You move down my stomach to my clean slit. You run your hands over my stomach and over my thighs. You pull me to the edge of the bed and kneel on the floor.

I feel the first light lick of your tongue on my hot pussy. You move your way down my stomach kissing it. Your hot breath hits my clit and I begin to quiver. You lightly flick the tip of my clit with your tongue. I keep reaching down to touch myself because you are teasing me so. You tell me to stop. I don’t.

You stand up and walk toward my closet. I moan because my pussy is longing for your touch. You take a white silky scarf from my closet and smile at me. You tie my wrists loosely together by my sides. I squirm and buck my hips off of the bed. You know want I want. You lift my legs and set them on your shoulders. You take one hand and spank my hot, wet cunt. I moan and shriek into a pillow near my head. At each hit my hip buck up to you just begging for more. After each slap, I become wetter and wetter. Tiny shots of pain mixed with pleasure shoot through my spine.

I love the feeling and I want more. My moans get louder and more intense. You kneel down again and lick my clit, then stroke your tongue right over my wanting hole. Back and forth and back and forth you go, occasionally sucking on tender spots which made me shiver with delight. You circle my clit until you reach the very tip. Ohm! Pure bliss.

You lay your hot tongue on it and then flick it over and over. I can feel it gathering within me, I am so close to cumming. You slowly insert one finger into my sweltering slit. In and out, in and out, slow and gentle at first. Then you insert another long, muscled finger. I feel my muscle grasp them like a vacuum. Still slow and gentle you go until I start to moan.

I moan because of the trills your fingers are sending through me, like little shots of electricity. You go faster and harder and I begin to cum. You lightly lick my clit and suck on it. Then you flick it repetitively with your fiery, wet tongue. I start to twist and twirl. I can feel it coming. Like lightning strikes through my veins, a warmth envelopes my body. My toes curl under and my muscles contract. My hands are outstretched as if I am reaching for more. I shake and moan, I bite into a pillow to muffle my screams of ecstasy.

June 2018
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