Sales Report

“Okay, Johnson, you’re up first. How’d your department do this month?”

Johnson stands up and begins his report, stammering and stuttering as usual. I don’t know what he did that the boss hates him so much, but he makes the poor guy go first every month.

I stand in my place at the front of the room. Near the flip chart in case there’s an impromptu brainstorm session, otherwise just monitoring the room, ready to go fetch coffee from the kitchen or do whatever else is needed.

Especially whatever else is needed.

The room is full of men, in their stiff shirts, staid suits, and boring ties. It’s very much an old boys club, with the boss ruling the roost, and never hesitating to belittle an underling or call someone out. The rest of them play along, smirking, making jokes, hoping that will make the boss less likely to pick on them. I’m the only woman in the room.

And have I mentioned that I’m naked except for a pair of stiletto heels?

I’ve been daydreaming, and not really paying attention, but as Johnson reaches the end of his report, I snap to attention. “As to, uh, sales, uh, Sir… It was, uh, an average month, Sir. Total was $32,500, which was um, about the same as last month, Sir.”

Johnson finally stammers to a close. The boss gives him a withering glare. “I had higher hopes for you this month, Johnson. See that you do better next month, or we’ll have to examine the staffing of your department.” And then, “$32,000 is that right? So that’s, let’s see – Lyn – what is that?”

“3 minutes, Sir,” I reply quickly.

“3 minutes, Johnson. Do you think that will be enough this month?

“I’m, uh, not sure, Sir.”

The rest of the men laugh, and the boss says “I guess we’ll find out.”

Johnson turns his rolling chair around, away from the conference table, and I leave my spot at the front of the room. I kneel in front of him, between his spread legs, his pants lowered just enough for me to get to his cock. I take his cock in my mouth. It’s flacid, of course – I imagine that when Johnson’s speaking the thing practically crawls up inside his body.

But his cock doesn’t stay flacid long, as I begin to suck and lick it, running my tongue around the glans, using my hand at the base to enhance the sensation. Soon his cock is bumping the back of my throat. The other men might make fun of Johnson’s stammer and his sucky sales, but his cock puts all of theirs to shame – the fact that he always goes first makes the rest of them so disappointing.

I live in anticipation of the month that Johnson’s department finally hits it big, because – sadly – 3 minutes is never enough. I’m just finding my rhythm, the spit at the back of my throat thick and sticky, perfect for deepthroating, my cunt pulsing in time with my movements, when the stopwatch in front of the boss begins to beep.

Reluctantly, I disengage from that lovely cock. Johnson – with obvious discomfort – puts it away. I can see the outline of it through his suit pants, and my cunt grows wet as i fantasize about that beautiful cock filling it. I wouldn’t want to have dinner with Johnson, but he could fuck me with that cock anytime. Or just lie back and let me fuck myself on it, if he’s as pathetic at performing in the bedroom as he is the board room.

While I was busy with Johnson, it was Peterson’s turn to report. He was still rambling on when I finished, so I returned to my spot at the front of the room, aware of all the men’s eyes following me as I walked. Between the sound of my sucking off Johnson, and the smell beginning to waft from my cunt, I knew that the rest of the men would be at least at half-mast when they got their turns.

$50,000 from Peterson’s department. 5 minutes. If it had been Smith, that would have been plenty – Smith’s a premature ejaculator, and he’d manage to blow his load even if he only had Johnson’s 3 minutes. But 5 minutes is right on the cusp for Peterson. It would likely depend on when he’d last fucked his wife. She was a cute little thing, blond with perky tits, and I wouldn’t mind fucking her myself. I imagined he did her as often as possible, so my bet was that Peterson wouldn’t manage with only 5 minutes.

I didn’t let my bet with myself sully my performance, though. In fact, the whole time I was sucking and stroking his cock (average length, and a little thick), I was fantasizing about fucking his wife’s cunt with a strap-on dildo while he fucked her face and made her perky tits bounce, so I probably gave him a better than average blow job.

I could taste his precum and feel his knees shaking a little when the stopwatch went off, and up my head popped. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and then he reluctantly put himself away, staying turned away from the table for an extra minute to compose himself.

3 more departments, 3 more sales reports, 3 more blow jobs. Smith was next, and the first to shoot his cum down my throat, as expected. Davis had an awful month, losing money because a sale from the previous month was canceled. So he got the one minute special, where I worked as hard as I could to make him as hard as possible for that one minute, then smeared a fingerful of my cunt musk under his nose and left him hanging. Ross was the superstar of the month – $200,000 in sales. I knew he wouldn’t use the whole 20 minutes, but he definitely enjoyed having me work on him for the 12 it took, threading his hands through my hair and pushing my face down on his cock, as much a face fucking as a blow job. Man’s a bit of a sadist, I think, but fortunately I don’t mind. My cunt *really* doesn’t mind, and the insides of my thighs were thick with cunt juice by the time he was done with me.

I went back up to my place at the front of the room, catching my breath, waiting for the boss to bring the meeting to a close so I could clean up the papers and coffee cups, maybe sneak off into the bathroom to get myself off. But this time the boss got up to make a speech.

“As you know, men, we’re in a bit of a cash crunch right now. Oh, you’re all doing your parts – except you, Davis – and I appreciate that. But this economic downturn is giving us some cash flow problems. So I have to announce that we won’t be able to pay out a Christmas bonus this year.”

Groans from around the room, although they try to hide it.

“But I can’t let such good work go unrewarded – even you, Davis, you’ve had a good year otherwise – so I do have another kind of bonus for You.”

My ears perk up at that. What ever could he have in mind?

“Lyn, up on the table, please.”

I begin to understand what the bonus is as I lie back on the table and spread my legs, cunt at the edge. As Peterson drives his cock into me, I’m feeling awfully glad that my cunt is so wet from that face fucking Ross gave me. It doesn’t take long for Peterson to shoot his load – he’d been so close before – and his cum fills my cunt and paves the way for the rest of them. Davis drives into me viciously, paying me back for his humiliation earlier. I’m impressed that Smith and Ross manage to get off a second time. And then it’s time for Johnson. The others think they’re leaving him with sloppy seconds (or, er, fifths, I mean). But I’m glad I’ve had 4 other cocks in me, because that means maybe I can take Johnson without tearing in two.

The other men are already heading out of the room when Johnson approaches the table. No flacid cock this time, he’s ready to go, and I’m ready to take all of him. He drives into me, and I’m instantly moaning, loving the feeling of being so totally filled, loving the way each thrust hits my cervix and combines the pleasure with pain.

After a few quick thrusts, he slows down, starts taking his time. He’s determined to make up for all those months of 3 minute blow jobs, all those months of humiliation. My moans intensify. “Oh god, oh god, oh please, oh please…” and he speeds up, reaches down, grabs my hips, pulls me as far as he can onto his cock, and as I start to come, cunt grasping and pulsing around that gorgeous cock, he comes too. He rests there, deep inside me, for only a moment. Then he sighs a peaceful and contented sigh, pulls out and leaves the room.

It’s a few minutes yet before I’m able to move, legs aching, cunt swollen and sore. But I know that cleaning that much cum off the boardroom table is going to be a real pain in the ass, so I drag myself up and get to work before it has time to dry out.

Thankful

1. i’m thankful that You’re so understanding as i struggle to be the submissive You and i both want me to be.
2. i’m thankful for Your love that surrounds me completely
3. i’m thankful for Your support and encouragement in my careers. Your belief that i can do it makes me believe it too.
4. i’m thankful for Your financial support, and the sense of security and safety net it provides.
5. i’m thankful for all the beautiful clothes and shoes, and for You showing me that being a girl can be really fun.
6. i’m thankful to You for helping me grow into a self-confident and self-assured woman.
7. i’m thankful for all the effort You expend into juggling all the many balls that You need to in order to make this work.
8. i’m thankful for every day we’ve spent together, and for every day that we will spend together.
9. i’m thankful for Your tolerance of my mistakes, and for Your punishment that helps me do better in the future.
10. i’m thankful that You never give up, even when i’m feeling like the world is futile.

So un-ladylike

Service through injustice

Early last week, my Master gave me instructions to wear a particular outfit to work the next day. But i didn’t have the hosiery he was looking for, so he let me wait until i could go shopping. Then i got sick, and it’s a few days later before i’m able to pull together the outfit that he wanted. i was so excited that morning, dressing for Him, with a new jacket i knew He’d love to complement the rest of the outfit.

Except i wore the wrong shoes.

He said Oxfords, i read Mary Janes, and had that firmly implanted in my brain as what i was supposed to wear with my pretty new patterned hose. i never went back to the original email to double check the instructions, because i “knew” what they were, and it can be hard to find one specific email amidst the hundreds we send.

But i did dash off a quick request for confirmation to my Master. “The rest of the outfit is new black skirt and black Mary Janes, right?” He wrote back saying he’d been thinking the gray skirt, but the black would be fine, and i went upstairs to get dressed.

A couple hours later, i’m at work, i send him the pictures, and i have one extemely unhappy Master. He’s been waiting on this outfit for days, and he’s going to be on a trans-Atlantic flight later that day, so – while i can fix it and take the right pictures when i get home – he’s going to be traveling and not able to see them.

He’s annoyed and frustrated, and he takes it out on me. i can tell He’s disappointed and upset as i read His instructions – a long apology from me, then 50 lines of “i will pay better attention to my instructions,” then another long apology.  And “I might punish you more later,” he says.

My first reaction was injustice.  “Sure, i hadn’t gone back and read the email, but i’d confirmed the outfit with Him that morning,” i thought indignantly . But we have been talking a lot about punishment and letting go. That accepting punishment – particular for something that was out of my control or that i don’t think i deserved – was a way of letting go of control.

i wasn’t quite capable of completely letting go – i did have to send a contrite but defensive “i know i should have done better, but i checked with You this morning!” email first. But then i looked inside myself, and found a way to write a sincere and submissive apology, while simultaneously accepting that it was perhaps a mostly injust punishment. After all, i should have been more attentive to His instructions in the first place.

As i wrote out my 50 lines i began to understand that this was less about fault, and more about my Master taking out his frustrations on me. And – here’s the epiphany – that accepting that punishment, letting Him lash out a little, was an act of service and submission. He needed to work out His emotions, and i was His canvas to do that, and the punishment his medium. With that thought, those 50 lines became a meditation on submission and service, rather than injust make-work. When i finished, i was able to write an even more sincere and submissive apology.

Not very much later, He mentioned in an email to me that accepting the blame, letting him take out his frustrations, was a way of submitting. To which i could reply that i’d already figured that out, and thank Him for showing me a different way to serve Him.

Sexy Shoes and a Little Black Dress

Sometimes, it’s just about the shoes

Love, love, love these ones. Can’t remember why we didn’t keep them. i think because i thought i already had too many red shoes. What was i thinking!?

A shoe slut fantasy

We’ve hung out, reconnected, shared a meal, and talked a little about what the parameters for the visit are. i’m nervous, tense about serving two masters, but You assure me that if i serve her well, that i am serving You through that.

It’s time. i’m told to strip off my clothes and i do. She begins to tie me up as at La Domaine, but this time paying even more attention to creating something that is beautiful and functional. You play with me a little as she works, touching my cunt and nipples, but mostly i just zone out into the rhythm of the rope work. When she’s done my arms are bound securely and helplessly. The rest of me is free to move, but encircled in rope, ready to be used to position me in any way that’s needed.

She uses the rope to bind me to a cross (that has miraculously appeared in my living room…) and begins to play with me. First a gentle warmup with hands and flogger, but soon moving to a level of impact play that is harder than what You are usually comfortable giving. As i writhe and struggle against me bonds, and breathe into and through the pain, i feel You stroking my hair, kissing me, touching me face, telling me what a good girl i am.

Just as i feel i can’t possibly take any more, it’s over. i hardly notice her untying my hands, making sure the blood is working it’s way back in, and i am still very securely bound as i slump down into a little puddle on the floor.

More kisses and stroking from You, lips on my lips, hands in my hair, then on my nipples, then at my cunt. You spread my legs, and i feel the tip of a pointy toed shoe touch my cunt, then pull away.

“Beg for it, shoe slut. You know you want it, beg me for it.”

i spread my legs wide and summon my voice from where it has retreated deep inside. i am shaking a little from the flogging, but wet and horny, and i do want it. it’s all i’ve been thinking about since we met for dinner. i beg her for it, beg her to fuck my cunt with her shoe, beg her to make me her shoe-fucking slut.

A few thrusts, rubbing the tip of the shoe against my swollen clit, dipping it into my cunt, then she stops. “i like my sluts wetter than this. If your cunt can’t do it, then You’ll have to use Your mouth” she says, and brings her shoe to my lips.

i lick it, tasting myself, tasting my wetness, adding my own saliva to it, knowing that the wetter i make the shiny patent, the better it is going to feel when that shoe touches my cunt again.

i must have done a good job, because in a moment she’s got the shoe between my legs again, working it against my clit. You move me into a better position, and soon i’m thrusting against her, moaning and writhing. You lean in to kiss me, taking my breath a little as You envelope my mouth with Your own.

i feel an orgasm begin to come. i don’t know who to ask for permission, so i blurt it out to both of You. “Please, Sir, please Mistress, please may i come for You?”

“Are You going to come on my shoe? You’ll have to clean it off, You know.”

“Yes, Mistress, yes, yes, yes…”

She works my clit harder, more directly, and with Your hands on my nipples and Your voice in my ear telling me to come for for You, to come for You now, i do.

i cry out, loud and long, the orgasm carrying me away. The contractions have only begun to fade away when i feel her hand on the back of my neck, pushing my face down to her shoe. i know what to do, and carefully lick every inch of it clean, tasting me all over her beautiful shoe.

Peek-a-boo Trio

Pretty in Pink

Every photo session we spend some time trying to get just the right picture of me pulling my jeans and panties down. My Master has it in his mind’s eye, but it’s harder than you’d think to get the picture just right. This one comes pretty close, though.

Contained

Leading up to our visit, i’d been expressing to my Master the strong need i was feeling to be bound and contained. Fortunately, He saw fit to fulfill that need for me.

One night before the visit He told me to wrap myself up in rope while i masturbated for Him, and i was astounded at how hot it made me just to string the rope through my cuffs and around my thighs and waist. After i came, i curled up in bed, held in the fetal position by the rope, wishing i could sleep all night that way.

Bondage often surprises me that way. i need it and crave it in a way i never really recognized before. It just feels right when i can feel the tension of the rope or cuffs or chain against my body.

And there’s really nothing better than being used when i’m bound. Body twisted and head pulled to the side of the couch as my Master fucks my face. Heaven.