We were sitting together in the hotel bar together on Secretaries Day. What a waste of corporate time and money! I had to buy my secretary flowers, be nice to her all week, and then take her out to lunch! True, I could do this on my corporate expense account so the taxpayers were paying for it. But still, here we were, having drinks, instead of working. And time is money, after all.
Me? My name is Frank, and I'm a Corporate Manager. I had to work hard, brown nose, and backstab my way all the way to my position, and I didn't care just how many bodies I had to dispose of on my way up to the top. It never mattered to me just how many employees I had to use, abuse, or take advantage of to get my way.
And now I really resented the fact that I had to spend an afternoon away from the office, buy her flowers and a card, and waste the day. Not that I already hadn't had a good week already.
Because the only way to keep your employees working is to keep them terrified. On a daily basis, I haul one of my people into my office, give them a shitload of tasks, then talk for at least an hour or more. If they can't complete their jobs in a workday, well then they can work past quitting time or at home. In addition, I keep telling them that they'll get fired if they don't perform.
But the part I like most of all is where I involve myself in their personal lives. Now when I was growing up, all I concerned myself with was cars, girls, and clothing. I didn't care how much I made, since I spent it all. So I tell every single guy in the office to do what I did, no matter what their interests are. I just love annoying the one guy who wants to write mystery novels, telling him that I never read a book when I was young and that writing is for sissies.
So here I was, in the bar with my secretary, Ingrid. What a piece! My regular secretary Ruth was recovering from a car accident (her fault, since she's a woman) so she had recommended her friend, Ingrid.
Wow! Ingrid was 35, blonde, with huge breasts, and a tight firm ass. She worked out, and her figure was nice and lean, and well muscled. If there ever was a piece of ass I'd like to have, it was her's, even though I was married.
"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Ingrid, putting her drink down on the bar.
"How nice you look."
For the past few weeks, I'd been dropping subtle hints about how nice she looked and how desirable she was. God! What a piece of tail!
"Thank you. You're pretty good looking yourself," she answered. "Thanks," I replied, wondering just where this was going to lead.
"You know, ever since I started working with you, I've had a secret."
I merely nodded and kept quiet.
"I've always been attracted to a good looking, strong guy like you, who knows how to order people around."
"That's nice," I answered, my hopes up and my dick getting hard.
"Still want to have lunch?" she asked.
"Sure," I answered, taking a sip of my drink.
"Perhaps we can do something better," she coyly suggested, a smile on her lips.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Why don't you buy a bottle of something at the bar, and get a room, and you'll find out," she answered.
"What about lunch?" I asked.
"The menu's changed," she said, "now you go get the room, and I've got to get a bag from my car, and I'll see you in the lobby."
"Sure," I answered.
A few minutes later, I had done as she asked, and we were alone in a room. I had bought a bottle of whiskey, some condoms and rented the room. Ingrid had gotten a small suitcase from her car (she had insisted on taking her own car for some reason instead of letting me drive her) and I was eagerly waiting for what would happen next.
"How about a drink?" she asked.
"Fine," I answered.
"I'll pour," she offered.
Ingrid took the ice bucket and put some ice into two glasses, then opened the bottle and poured the Whiskey straight over the ice. She handed me the glass, and to prove just how manly I was, I drained the glass in one gulp.
"Pretty good," said Ingrid.
Then the lights went out and the room started to spin.
"Nighty night," was the last thing Ingrid said before the lights went out.
When I came to, I found that I was naked on the bed. I felt the presence of a leather collar around my neck, my hands were bound behind my back, and something was locked to my ankles keeping my legs apart. I was laying on my stomach, helpless! I turned my head around, to see Ingrid sitting in a chair, reading a magazine.
Ingrid had changed into a leather bra, skirt, and high heels. Around her waist was a belt, from which I glimpsed a riding crop, and other things.
"You shouldn't drink Frank," she said, "you can't hold it."
"Let me go," I protested.
"Why? You wanted to have a little hanky-panky with me ever since I started. You've got your wish, except that we're going to have a little different fun than the sort that you had imagined."
"What's going on?" I asked, "Why am I bound like this?"
"Surely a big boy like you can figure that out, can't you?" she asked.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Like my Dominatrix outfit?" Ingrid asked as she stood up and displayed herself.
"Dominatrix?" I repeated.
"Sure. I’ve been one for years. Pretty good at it, too. Especially since I had a good trainer myself."
"Let me go, damn it!" I cried.
"Not just yet, Frank," said Ingrid, "I'm here to teach you a lesson."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"You really think that you're something, don't you? When Ruth told me just what kind of boss you were, I didn't believe her at first. But after working with you for weeks, I've concluded that you really are a real piece of work yourself."
"What do you mean, let me go!" I cried.
"You like to abuse people, you little tin god. Did you really give Greenberg a hard time last year about getting the Jewish holidays off? Or that kid that wants to write mysteries a bad time too? Just what kind of manager are you, anyway?"
"A good one," I protested.
"Really? Threatening to fire your people every chance you get, interfering in their personal lives, beating them up every chance you get? You know that all of your employees hate your guts, and can't say I blame them. That's why I'm here," said Ingrid.
"To do what?" I asked.
"Why, to teach you a lesson, silly boy," she said.
"You abuse people too, bitch," I said.
"Not true," she answered, "I know to stop long before my slaves call for mercy in the power exchange we call Dominance and Submission, and they all have safewords too. Pity your employees don't have a safeword before you call them into your office for a little tongue-lashing. Why I'll bet that your people would rather have a session with me rather than one with you. At least I know when to stop, bigmouth."
"Let me go, damn it!"
"I've been called in to teach you a lesson, asshole. Now ordinarily I don't engage in non-consensual D/s, but in your case I'm going to make an exception. It's time that someone shows you what it means to be on the receiving end for a change."
"No!" I cried, as she produced a red rubber ball with straps attached that she forced into my mouth and buckled at the back of my neck.
"Mmmmmmmph!" I cried with the gag in my mouth.
"Most intelligent thing you've said all day," commented Ingrid, "now let's get started, asshole."
She opened the suitcase and emptied the contents on the table. She picked up a jar and a flesh colored object that I didn't recognize.
"Since that lovely ass of yours is just so accessible right now, that's where I'm going to start," said Ingrid.
She put on a pair of rubber gloves and opened the jar, taking out a glob of jelly on her fingers. Then she opened my ass cheeks and inserted her fingers into my butt, massaging my behind, relaxing my muscles.
"No need to worry, big boy, I'm also a trained RN. You might say that I already have seen assholes like you before. That's better, open that tight hole of yours, cause I'll do this all day if I have to."
I grunted in response, only to watch in horror as the object was soon inserted into my behind. I winced as the wider section was gradually eased past my anus, and then moaned when my muscles closed when it narrowed.
"Good boy!" cried Ingrid, "your first butt plug."
Vainly, I tried to force the thing out of my behind, but it was firmly locked in by my muscles. No matter what I tried to do, I couldn't dislodge it!
"There now," said Ingrid, as she removed her surgical gloves, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Ingrid then proceeded to begin to play with my cock, which quickly stiffened in response. She pulled roughly at my dick between my legs, and when I got hard, she proceeded to spank my behind several times with harsh blows.
"Better not come" she ordered, "not until your Mistress tells you to! Or you'll get punished, slave!"
I remained silent in my gag, fearful of what was going to happen next.
"That's a good boy," she said, "I think that this side of beef isn't done just yet."
She produced a riding crop from the table, and displayed it for me.
"You really are quite a horse's ass, you know. I've been waiting to use this crop on you for some time now."
She then flexed the crop in her hands, showing me just how stiff it was.
"Do you give your employees a choice before you let them have a tongue lashing? Or a safeword when they've had enough of your ego? I don't think so, tough guy. Let's see how that ass of yours holds up to a few strokes of the riding crop, hmmm?"
Ingrid then began to massage and pull at my ass with one of hands. Then she began to strike my ass with the crop, each stroke slicing across the skin.
"Mmmmmph!" I groaned.
"Now when I do a scene, my submissive and I work out a safeword in advance, usually mercy. And when they call mercy, I stop. Period. But you just like to hear the sound of your own voice, now don't you? Are you that insecure?"
I pulled without effect at the leather holding me, bouncing on the bed as each stroke cut a path of fire across my behind.
"There now, I think that you're medium rare by now," said Ingrid.
My ass was a solid mass of pain, and I felt like screaming when she turned me over. When my ass hit the bedcover, I felt like jumping to the ceiling.
"Now my slaves can take a hell of a lot more punishment than that. Except that they're experienced, and you're just a virgin asshole, in my opinion. Now it's time to take care of the front, hmmm?"
If I was afraid before, I was doubly worried now. My cock lay exposed for whatever was going to happen next. I watched as Ingrid put on her rubber gloves again.
"Ever see them milk a horse for sperm, stud muffin? Well, let's see what you've got?"
She took a small plastic bag and placed it over my cock, then proceeded to pull and arouse me to an erection. I have to admit that she was good, and my cock was soon erect. In no time at all, I was climaxing my come into the bag.
"Whoa, Seabiscuit, Whoa!" cried Ingrid.
After cleaning off my dick with a paper towel, Ingrid then delivered a few more strokes with the riding crop onto my exposed thighs. I groaned with each stroke of the crop.
"My, you do shoot a good load," said Ingrid.
She then spread the come over my exposed nakedness with her rubber clad fingers, tickling me into laughter if I had not been gagged.
"All done for today, Frank. Usually I charge a lot for my services, but you'll be paying quite a price for your attitude towards your employees."
I felt a needle prick my arm, and everything went dark after that.
When I awoke, there was no sign of Ingrid. My restraints were all gone, including the plug that she had inserted into my ass. I cleaned myself up and left.
After arriving back at the office, I learned that Ingrid had quit, without giving any reasons, and I relaxed.
Two days later, photos of me in bondage arrived, and were sent to everyone from the company president on down. I was maneuvered into resigning, and cleaned out my desk that afternoon.
At my next job, I had the misfortune to have a Vice-President that would call me into his office for a daily chat lasting 1 or 2 hours a day. He especially delighted in abusing me, of all people in the office. Turns out he was a writer and wanted me to hear his stuff.
I wish that I had a safeword to use with this guy!