Sessions

News

My Gallery

TV maids

Contact me

Artwork

Souvenirs

Stories

Interview

Links

Main

Let me start by setting the scene again after part 1. I work as senior drinks buyer in a large supermarket chain. I'd better not tell you which one or you'd all want to come and work here! I've got one guy who reports to me - Steve, my junior buyer. There's another senior, Sarah, who looks after confection. Her junior's called Andy.

The director for drinks and confection is Helen or rather ‘Miss Ford’ as I'm now supposed to call her. Miss Ford's about 27 or 28 - a few years younger than me but she's risen fast in the company. Not surprising really since she's smart, hard working and gets on with pretty much everyone around her. She's also got looks that men would die for.

She is always dressed to impress. A white blouse and short skirt are her normal clothes and these grip her figure in a way that really shows off what good shape she keeps herself in. She’s very slim in both directions - narrow shoulders and hips and not an ounce of spare fat anywhere. Spare, that is, since she goes in and out in all the right places. Not too thin to be called skinny, but almost magazine-cover quality. You know what I mean? Her hair is always worn to match her skirt- cut short and bobbed around her head with just a slight curl at the front. There’s never a hair out of place, even when she's having a blazing row with someone.

Oh, and I nearly forgot- she's always smiling no matter what happens. Showing off those brilliant white teeth and making you feel really, really welcome. Great use of the eyes as well... when she wants a guy's help with something she'll often look down at her feet and raise a hand to her mouth. Makes most men want to dive right in and help this sweet girl with so much responsibility burdened on her narrow shoulders. It's all an act though as I'd found out the day before.

Basically, Miss Ford works hard and plays hard. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your point of view!) her idea of "playing" seems to be to bring one of the guys who works for her right to the edge of what he can bear. Whether that's to his pain threshold, to humiliate him, or even just to control all his actions. It didn't really seem to matter to Miss Ford... all she wanted to do was to make sure that men - including me- knew who was boss. And not just in the normal manager-subordinate relationship.

It was the day after my appraisal. I was in the office at my normal time, about seven, and as usual Miss Ford was there already. Nobody else was around. I went over to say "Good morning" to her, and - after checking that we really were alone - reverently placed a small bag of stones on her desk. "Thank you Miss Ford for letting me borrow those, it was very kind of you." I said.

She gave me her dazzling smile, and responded, "You're welcome, Alan. If you're good you can borrow them again sometime." I hoped not! Getting those things out had been even more painful than it had been when she'd originally put them in! We talked a little about a meeting we had planned with one of our suppliers for that day, then I started to go back to my desk.

"Stop!" she commanded. "Have you forgotten everything I told you yesterday?" I froze. What had I managed - or rather forgotten - to do? I turned around whilst still wracking my brain... It took a moment to register but then I noticed that in her left hand she was holding a red biro.

How could I be so stupid to miss that?

"I'm sorry, Miss Ford. I should have been paying attention. Can I get you a coffee?"

"That's better, boy. White, no sugar. Fresh." I hurried off to fetch her drink. Basically, Miss Ford had told me the day before that there would be limits on how often we'd be able to "play", as she'd put it, during work hours. However, she still wanted me to remember that at all times I was there purely to serve her. What this meant was that at all times I should be aware of her needs and be willing to satisfy them. In most cases, these would be pretty mundane and would fit right in to a work environment. Getting her coffee, photocopying her reports, getting her something to eat... agreeing with her point of view in meetings. She'd make these needs known to me by simple gestures - tapping a particular finger on the desk or holding the red pen in her hand... that sort of thing. It meant, of course, that she had real control over me, even in the office when other people were around. I also had to be really attentive to her at all times since, she had assured me, delaying in responding to her wishes would result in punishment.

Having faced her punishment already at first-hand, this wasn't something I was particularly keen to repeat.

Of course, there was also a flip-side to this arrangement. If I pleased her and served her well enough then I'd be rewarded. And given the nature of these "rewards" this was more than a small incentive, I assure you! Being allowed to worship her feet was just the beginning, she had said. I was dying to find out what else she might suggest.

I got back to her desk with the steaming cup. She asked me, "Are you wearing any knickers today, slave?"

"No, Miss Ford." I responded, proudly. As she'd instructed, I was never to wear underpants to the office again. Since I didn't want my wife to wonder what was going on, I'd had to dress normally that morning then take them off again on the way to work... but I'm sure Miss Ford already realised how awkward this situation was for me!

"Good, show me," she demanded. I hesitated. I realised that there was nobody else around that I knew of but if someone were to walk in on us when my trousers were, quite literally, down there would be no easy explanation. I'd probably get fired, or worse, for indecent exposure. But, I knew better than to disobey a direct command so started to undo my belt.

"Alan? What do you think you're doing?" she asked. I was puzzled.

"I thought this was what you wanted, M-Miss Ford," I stammered.

"Alan. What did I tell you? Although I'm going to have fun in the office with you, that doesn't mean we can risk anyone finding out about our little... arrangement. Just undo your zip." I gave a sigh of relief. That was MUCH safer. And so, while facing her desk, I pulled open the front of my trousers.

She left me standing there for a moment while she sipped at the coffee I'd just brought her. It felt decidedly odd. Although anyone passing by wouldn't really notice that anything was wrong, it goes against everything you've been taught since you were a child, standing in a public area with your flies down - especially when you're not wearing anything underneath.

She didn't keep me waiting very long, though. She put the cup down then teased my penis and balls out and into public view. As she stroked my genitals I could feel that her hand was still warm from holding the cup. "Good boy," she said approvingly, "you've done as I asked. so I'll give you a reward. Will you come for me?" And with that she began stroking my now fully erect penis much harder.

I couldn't believe my ears. She wanted me to orgasm, here in the office, at her desk? Surely this was taking things too far? She was obviously serious though, and knew what she was doing. As she masturbated me she began speaking in a low voice... talking about the things she intended to do to me... both punishments and rewards.

I was torn. Should I relax, and let things happen? If I did, I was taking things further with Helen than I really felt comfortable with. If my wife ever found out what was going on it would strain our marriage to breaking point. And if she didn't find out then I'd be wracked with guilt every time I saw either of them anyway. On the other hand if I fought what the temptress was trying to do how long could I hope to hold out for? It was obvious by the way my body was responding to her attentions that it was far keener on the situation than I was! I had to decide quickly.

I took three steps back, pulling away from her. "I'm sorry, Miss Ford, I can't do this." I murmured. And then froze as I saw the look of fury that darkened her pretty face. "How DARE you", she whispered. "I offer you a reward and you turn me down? I thought you understood that going forward my own wishes will always come before yours?" I tried to stammer out another apology but she cut me off before I could get another word out.

"For the next five minutes I don't want a word from you. Not a sound, not a grunt, not a moan. You understand Alan?" she said coldly. I nodded to indicate I'd understood. "For your disobedience you must be punished. Perhaps that will make you think twice before refusing a reward next time. Take your shoes off." I glanced around the office but no-one else was around yet. I hurriedly slipped off my shoes and stood there in my socks.

Miss Ford stood up - in her heels she now stood an inch or two taller than me, and stepped closer to me. Much closer - I could feel her breath against my ear as she whispered, "Now, not a word... and don't look down." I felt her hands steady themselves on my shoulders as she placed her right foot on my left... stiletto first. "Pleasure or pain, Alan, I give both," she said with an evil smile as she gradually increased the pressure. I could feel the heel of her shoe start to dig in and had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from crying out. She laughed as she wiped a tear off my face. "Come on, I expect everyone who works for me to support me." Then she put her hands on my shoulders to support herself as she stepped on my other foot - her entire weight supported on two heels, both of which were now spearing my own feet.

How long I could support this, I couldn't tell. Fortunately her slim frame was very light - but even so it felt like two quarter inch nails had been driven through my skin and bones. The tears were now pouring down my face as I tried to silently beg her to step off me. She swayed very gently from side to side - only slightly, but it was enough to send even more severe stabs of pain wracking through each foot alternately. "See what happens when you say no to me?" she said mockingly. I nodded my head - what else could I do? "Never deny my wishes again, Alan, this is my final warning." I nodded frantically whilst trying to minimise my own movement. By now I was in agony and would have agreed to anything to get her to relieve the pressure.

"Very well, perhaps you have learned your lesson," she smiled as first she stepped off my right foot and then my left. There was a moment of even sharper pain as the blood started flowing again. I let out a small whimper, which I bit off hurriedly - fortunately Helen hadn’t seenmed to have heard it. How could something so beautiful be so cruel at the same time?

"You'd better go and clean up in the little boy's room," she mocked, "as you wouldn't want anyone to see that you'd been crying now, would you?" As I started to move away she called me back. I turned back to face her again, fearing the worst. "And while you're there refill this for me would you please?" she smiled sweetly as she handed me an empty plastic apple juice bottle. I took it from her, uncomprehendingly and hobbled off to the washrooms.

I grabbed a couple of paper towels, locked myself into one of the cubicles and ripped off my shoes and socks as soon as the door was closed. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my abused feet to see what damage had been done. Each foot had a deep, round impression in it but somehow the skin remained intact. As I cautiously massaged them I felt no searing pain which would have indicated a broken bone. I breathed a sigh of relief - no permanent damage. Well, no permanent physical damage, anyway. Any resolve I might have had to resist Helen had most certainly been broken. I either had to say goodbye to my own will, or my career - there was no middle path.

As my abused feet recovered, I was able to turn my attention to the bottle she'd given me. Refill it? With what? Juice? I sat there staring at it for a moment or two before the realisation hit me. I opened the bottle, dropped my trousers... and filled it. My hands were still shaking after the ordeal I'd just been through and my aim wasn't very good so after filling the bottle about three quarters full I had to spend the next three minutes cleaning up my own clumsiness. Eventually, I was confident that no evidence remained. I washed my hands carefully then made some fresh coffee as I was sure the one I'd given her earlier would be cold by now, added the milk (no sugar!) and headed back to our desks.

Helen smiled sweetly as I approached with the two warm containers in my hands. "Oh, lovely, I was just wondering if you'd bring us fresh brews" she said, confirming my worst fear. Two days ago, I would never have even considered doing what she was now asking of me. But compared with her other "games" I guess drinking my own pee was nothing. As she sipped at her own coffee, she added, "Come on Alan, not thirsty?" I unscrewed the cap, and tried not to gag on the stench that came from the warm bottle. "Drink up!" she giggled.

I took a sip, and nearly spat it straight out again. This was the first time I'd ever tasted urine and I was unprepared for the bitter-salt taste. Fighting against my instincts, I hurriedly swallowed before I could fail her again. "Drink slowly, now", she said before I could gulp down the remainder and get the ordeal over with. My next mouthful was about a fifth of the bottle which, under her direction, I swilled around my mouth first. The last thing I wanted to do was to savour the taste of this foul fluid, but I could see that Helen was determined to make me enjoy ever drop of my pee. "Wonderful!" she said, as I eventually finished the bottle. "Now wasn't that refreshing? Oh, please keep the bottle, I'll expect you to bring that in - full- every morning from now on. It will serve as an ongoing punishment and reminder of what happens if you disobey me again. Oh, and it will taste nicer if you cut down on the red meat," she laughed. "Now, come here, we have unfinished business".

I stepped over to her desk and stood passively as she unzipped my trousers and buried her hand inside. I was quickly standing to attention again as she expertly stroked my balls and penis back to life. Considering the abuse and humiliation I'd been through that morning, I was amazed that I could respond so quickly to this woman but I guess that's more of an indication as to what's really important to men. In less than a minute I could feel my balls tightening. All inhibitions gone now, I moaned as she brought me to climax. Seconds later and I'd had the first orgasm with a woman other than my wife since marrying and I knew that my life from that point onwards would never be the same.

She gave me very specific instructions on how she wanted me to clean the "corporate gift" I'd left on her desk. I'm sure you can use your own imaginations there. I then received my rather more conventional instructions for the rest of the day. I had to pull together some sales figures for one of the suppliers and decide on the product ranges that we'd have in over Christmas. It all seemed so ordianry somehow, as we did our normal day-jobs. Normal, that is, except that I needed to munch on a packet of Trebor Extra Strong mints that I stole from Steve's sample box. It took the whole packet just to disguise the taste of my own urine and semen from my mouth.

When Andy finally showed up half an hour later and put his own apple juice down in that little ritual of his, I shuddered as I realised that, going forward, I would be doing the same thing myself. I now knew that Helen must have all three of us completely under her control. I guess she'd redefined the meaning of "wage-slaves". But, what about Sarah, was she also part of the game?

And so, that was the second day of my service to Miss Ford. To be honest, I'm grateful to have a job, particularly one that I generally enjoy doing. I must admit that having been broken by her stronger will, I find work to be far easier when my job is simply to keep the boss happy - whatever she decides to put me through. Sometimes it can be painful, sometimes delightful, but rarely as brutal as those first two days. Over the last six months I've gradually found myself becoming more and more devoted to my Miss Ford, and I find myself looking forward to our weekly "one-on-one" meetings in a one of the curtained off meeting rooms.

From that day, my life has quickly established a pattern which was to hold for the next six months. Then, about a week ago the new normality was broken by a two-day "strategy offsite" in London,where my life as a wage-slave was about to veer off at yet another tangent.

But that story will have to wait for another day...

The End

© 2003-2010.  All rights reserved.  All images, text and designs, unless otherwise stated, are the copyright of Mistress Lubyanka. No part of this website or its contents may be reproduced or distributed by any means whatsoever without the express written consent of the owner.