After the staff meeting (open to submissive female, and domme female if she wants)

My secretary kneels behind you. I nod again. Though I cannot see, I know what she is doing. She is running a finger up and down the lips of your cunt. Her face is fixed in concentration.

"This is to show you that there is reward as well as punishment, Alison. That even as you kneel on my floor, debased in front of me, I am willing to show you pleasure. Please describe to me what my secretary is doing."

I furrow my brow in concentration, enjoying the sensation. "She is running her finger up and down my pussy, sir," I say. "It feels good. . ." I had been out of a relationship for about a year, and so the contact was welcome.

I nod again. I know what my secretary is about to do. She is about to thrust three fingers into your cunt.

"Raise yourself Alison. Please get on all fours. Describe to me what my secretary is doing to you now."

I raise myself on all fours and gasp as I feel the fingers enter my pussy. "She just shoved two- no, three fingers into my pussy, sir, and she's wiggling them around."

I'm so pleased with you. This morning you came to work expecting a normal day. And now you are on all fours being fucked by another woman, and treating it completely normally. I wouldn't say you look pleased, exactly. There is a certain amount of distress, in fact. But you are accepting three fingers in your cunt from a woman you have never spoken to before.

She is fucking you harder now, and it is time for the conclusion of our first disciplinary session. I undo my trousers and pull out my cock. I start to pull it hard, still leaning against the desk, looking down at you on all fours.

"Look at me, Alison …"

I look up at him, and gasp as I see his cock. I'm wiggling trying not to enjoy what was happening but I couldn't help it. . . it felt so good. . .

I can see you're getting excited now. I can see the flush in your cheeks. I can see how fast my secretary's fingers are pumping into your pussy. I wonder what your tits are like. Are you nipples hard? Do you wish someone was playing with them right now? How will you take it when we come to abuse them? I wonder if your asshole has ever been penetrated, if you have been forced to suck cock against your will ¬

I'm wanking hard, too.

"Just look at my cock, Alison. And tell me what you think I am going to do."

I look at your cock, not that I needed the order to do so, and I stare at it. "I think you're going to jerk off and cum all over me, sir," I pant, moaning and squirming, taking the finger fucking.

"Will you cum if my secretary keeps fucking your pussy, Alison?"

I'm jerking hard now, enjoying seeing her staring at my cock, its head obscene and swollen and purple.

"Uh huh," I whimper, already getting close. I'm still looking at your cock, wondering what it was like. I moan and whimper, squirming in pleasure.

I nod to my secretary. She pulls her fingers from your wet cunt. I can hear the noise as your hole is left void. I watch as you buck your hips, desperate to replace what's been lost …

I'm bucking my hips, trying to find her fingers again, trying to fill my empty pussy, whimpering in need and desire.

"You will not cum today, Alison. Now crawl closer to me …"

I whimper and crawl over to you, not hesitating now.

You have crawled towards me, like a desire filled little slut. My secretary knows what is coming. She has slid her hand down the front of her skirt. She has slid her fingers inside her panties. She has slid her fingers between the folds of her pussy. She is masturbating as she watches you, your skirt still pulled back over your back, a beautiful red weal rising on your ass, your cunt swollen and wet. I'm masturbating as I watch you, too, your eyes upturned, never leaving my hand as it moves faster and faster up and down the length of my cock.

"Tell me what you want, Alison."

I try not to stammer as I say, "I want your cock, sir." I had never really uttered those words, and a deep blush rises in my cheeks. I lick my lips and continue to look at it.

"You will not have my cock, Alison."

I just manage to get these words out before it explodes, showering you in cum. Your hair, your face, your top … Dripping on to the floor in thick creamy ropes. Running down your cheeks and gathering on your lips …

I lick up whatever cum lands on my face and what I can get up. I continue look at you.

I spend most of the following week thinking about you. What part of you enabled you to submit to me so readily? Was I wrong to think you had derived pleasure from your experience? I wondered what you had done when I sent you from my office: had you rushed to the bathroom, your head bowed, to prevent any of your colleagues seeing your face dripping white, or had you walked calmly?

Twice I call you for meetings to discuss points of work. I sit deliberately, my legs wide, so you cannot help but see my hardness if you look. I do not look you in the face, only at your body, knowing you can feel my eyes upon you. But your work has improved, I am pleased. Are you sitting in these meetings wishing I would take you to my office. Or are you relieved to be allowed not to have to perform for me?

I wonder if like me you have been reliving the experience in your mind, if like me you have felt a constant tinge of sexual excitement about what will happen at our next session. I imagine you in your home, touching yourself, and wonder what the cunt and ass you displayed to my secretary look like. I wonder if you have enjoyed such treatment before, or if it is new to you. I wonder what made you so pliable, so usable.

And I think about my secretary, and how her discovering the sites I was looking at on my computer led to this, how she explained her own pleasures lay in the same direction, and how she tutored me in finding likely candidates for our sessions, and how she explained her own pleasure in using these girls.

I find myself aroused all week, waiting.

And then, finally, I send you the message:

"Alison, it is time for your second session. Please come to my office at six tomorrow. Please make sure your clothing allows me access to whichever part of your body I choose. You may wear underwear, if you wish, but it must reveal, not conceal."

I got the message and I bite my lip, gnawing on it.

Was I nervous? Hell yes.

Was I excited? Hell yes.

I finally mustered up the courage to type back.

"I understand, sir."

The next day, I arrive at your office and knock on the door once more, dressed in a similar dress as last time, except red, and I opted not to wear underwear. All I really had were basic cotton ones, anyways.

I hear the knock.

"Come in please, Alison," I call.

You enter, and I gaze at you. So does my secretary, sitting in the sofa to the right of my desk. I am pleased. You look good in red, and unless I am very much mistaken, you have gone without underwear. I can see the way your dress clings to your nipples, which seem already to be hard. I see the way it hugs your thighs and your ass. I look across at my secretary and she smiles. I smile back at her. Today, I think, we will have fun.

"An important part of this process," I say, "is not just that your work performance improves, but that you learn about yourself, and that I learn about you. So, Alison, I want you to tell me how you have felt over this past week about our last meeting."

I think for a few moments. "Almost in a daze. . . a little confused, nervous, excited and a little embarrassed, sir," I reply, sitting down where your secretary indicated.

"What are you confused about, Alison?"

"Just. . . everything that happened, I guess," I say, looking at him. "It just felt so. . ." I struggled to find the word but couldn't, so I settled on "strange. . . Almost like it wasn't me that was there. . ."

"What do you mean when you say it felt like it wasn't you? Was that uncharacteristic behaviour for you, Alison?"