Scott s Yucca Man Tale
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A Secretary's Tale free porn video
A Secretary's Tale
I waited patiently outside Mr. Dickens? office. I reminded
myself that although it was ?Master? once I was inside his
office, or at home, it was Mr. Dickens out here in the waiting
area. Most people were beginning to head home. It was 5:30 on
Friday afternoon and everybody had plans, except for me.
Nowadays, other people had plans for me. I just tried to do as I
was told.
I could hear nothing through the thick door. But as I already
knew that the office was sound proof, that meant nothing. "Best
check that I?m tidy" I thought.
I looked down to make sure that my stockings are straight. Yes,
they're fine. My skirt does, just cover the lacy tops at the
front and back, but I reach down and tighten the four, red
suspenders until they?re taut, just to be sure. As long as I
don't bend or try to run (fat chance in these 4? heels), I?ll
look vaguely respectable. My blouse is not, I think, too
transparent. Sure my bright red, lacy, half-cup bra is clearly
visible, but my budding, hormone-induced nipples are not. My
make-up and nails are still tidy and, considering the time, I
take some pride in that. All the same, I take out a compact from
my clutch bag and apply a touch more ?deep crimson? lip varnish
and clear, shiny gloss.
My wait is over, as the door opens and my Master instructs me to
enter. I walk in and close the thick door behind me, heart
pounding and my knees and fingers beginning to tremble with
fear. I turn to you, now seated in the larger, leather chair
behind the wide mahogany desk. I try to smile and drop what I
consider to be a neat curtsey, before asking in a reedy,
quavering voice
?Master, you summoned me?? and curtseying again.
?I did, slut,? you tell me tersely after a pause. ?Have you been
well behaved today?? you enquire.
?Yes Master, very well behaved Master? I reply, nervously.
?You say so, slut, but I was at lunch today with a couple of the
guys in sales and they were telling me that the ?tarty little
bit of student placement fluff? had been giving them the come-on
this morning? and you are the only tarty little bit of student
placement fluff here at the moment, so what am I to think?? you
ask in a calm, friendly voice that fools me for not one second.
?Master,? I plead, panicking now. ?It couldn?t have been me.
I?ve been really good. I?ve not flirted with anybody. I wouldn?t
dare. Honest!? And now my knees are genuinely quivering, as I
know that I?m telling the truth, but that this will count for
nothing if my Master decides that I must be punished.
?Well, Pussy, Marcus and Joel were emphatic that this little
slut had been stood near them at the photocopier in the sales
office and had deliberately bent forward over the machine to
flash them a good shot of her ass and panties.? I go white as I
see you remove a short leather whip from your desk. ?Still sure
that you?ve been a good girl, Pussy?? you ask, more
threateningly this time.
?Yes, yes Master. Of Course!? I plead, but doubts are now
filtering into my mind, as I remember copying some reports in
the sales office during the morning. Had they been there? I
couldn?t remember. God my memory was turning to shit lately!
?This wanton little slut had on lace-top stockings and a red
suspender belt, with four suspenders? you tell me, flexing the
little whip.
?Oh shit!? I think to myself, fearing the worst.
?Yes, and red, see-through, mesh panties with tie-up sides. Real
whore?s gear they were saying, and who can blame them, eh? Some
little slut flashing those at you over the copier? What are they
meant to think??
?Oh Master no!? I beg, clasping my hands together in front of me
in genuine supplication. ?Please, Master, I didn?t flash. I
didn?t know. I didn?t!?
I?m silenced as the little crop lashes down on the desktop and
you stand, threateningly before me.
?Lift your skirt, slut!? you order and, picking up the short
hem, I comply, biting my lip as I raise the light material the
few inches required for my lacy stocking tops, suspenders and
finally my crimson ?Anne Summers? tie-up panties to peek into
view.
?Well, well. What have we here?? You ask, without expecting a
reply. ?We have a lying little bitch who?s been flashing her
juicy, cum-hungry ass at my staff!?
I try to protest my innocence, but my mouth is too dry to speak.
I cringe as you approach and squeal in pain as you seize me by
my mane of blonde hair and throw me forward onto the thick-pile
carpet, where I land heavily on my knees. I try to rise, knowing
what is in store, but I feel your foot, firm and heavy, pressing
down on the back of my neck. I then feel your tight grip on the
back of my panties, pulling roughly upwards, forcing the
material into my crack, lifting my hips high and exposing my
smooth buttocks.
?I?ll teach you not to lie to me you little whore!? I hear you
shout. And then I seize and cramp in pain, my mind blanking and
white lights exploding in front of my eyes. I didn?t even hear
the skinny, heavy, leather whip land. The thick carpet muffles
my whinny of animal pain and fear as the whip lands again, this
time on my other buttock. I writhe in agony, my legs kicking to
try to escape and my back bucking against your tight grip, all
to no avail. As the whip bites home, 3, 4, 5 times I hear my
Master grunting and telling me, through grunts and gritted
teeth, that I?m his slut and that my ass belongs to him. I try
to agree, I beg, I plead, I submit, until the sixth lick of the
whip hits me and I?m dropped, sobbing and moaning onto the
carpet, clutching at the hot, pronounced red wheals that mark my
pretty ass.
?I?m sorry Master? I sob ?I won?t do it again, Master?.
But then I hear you close behind me where I?m kneeling ?I?m not
finished with you yet, slut!? you spit out at me.
I feel you close, your hand again takes a rough grip of my
panties but this time shoves them to one side. Your big tool
pushes insistently against my pussy and I try to relax in time
to let it in with minimal pain. Too slow, I realize as I cry out
in pain as you thunder into me, 6 thick inches in one thrust. I
bow my back to stretch away but you seize my hips and powerfully
pull me backwards at the same time as thrusting forward with a
grunt that brings about a reciprocal cry of pain from me as this
time, all 8 inches rape me. You begin to pump rhythmically into
me, your pelvis slapping loud against my butt. My eyes feel like
they?ll burst out of my head and my mouth is wide and silent as
I try to relax. My butt is now warm like Deep Heat, glowing
through me. Your cock explores and penetrates and invades me and
I can?t help but respond. I hate myself, but something in there
feels undeniably good and the added humiliation of being abused
and beaten and down on bruised knees with my ass crammed full of
cock lights up the darker side of my psyche.
Soon I?m moving with you, my long, painted fingernails gripping
deep in the carpet as I push myself against you, head back,
whispering your name and encouraging you to fill me.
I react in pain again as your big hand lands heavily on my
tortured rump and you tell me ?Louder bitch! Tell me who?s your
Master!?
I let go and begin to moan as I move with you, my little cock
now hard and escaping from my skimpy pants as I reach down to
grip myself and start to pump.
?Oh God, Yes! Master, Yes! Fuck me Master! Pleassssse! Make me
your bitch Master please! YESSSSS!? I exclaim as you quicken the
pace and increase the weight of your thrusts. I?m close to
orgasm and get even closer as your big hand slaps my dainty
little one away and encloses my tiny, hard cock. I can take no
more and as I hear you starting to cum, my slim arms give way
and your full weight slams down into me as I cry out in pain and
pleasure, my cock beginning to spurt as you explode deep, deep
inside me, thrusting 4, 5, 6 times before you are done.
?Yes Master! YESSSS? I cry. ?Don?t stop, please! More!? I beg.
But you shove me away, complaining, begging and whimpering, as
your still-hard cock slithers free of my pussy with a slurp and
a ?pop? and springs out, sliding against the cheek of my ass
and, as I roll around to face you, stand proud in front of me.
Hardly knowing what I am doing, I clamber breathlessly to my
knees and grasp the slimy shaft of the tool in my small hand,
greedily cramming the head between my shiny, collagen-pumped,
crimson lips and sinking the head and half the shaft into my
mouth. I frantically bob my head up and down, sucking your cock
clean of salty, mushroom-scented cum and the slight, coppery
tang of my ass. My pink, pointy tongue slithers up and down and
around the shaft, caressing and exploring the outline of every
vein and contour as I pump the shaft with my right hand,
kneading and cradling your balls with my left. I am spurred on
by the sighs and gasps and foul-mouthed exhortations coming from
your lips as you encourage me to ?fuck that cock with your
pretty, little sissy-whore?s face? and I feel your insistent
hands, roughly forcing my head up and down and your sharp, quick
slaps on my face and the side of my head. Your cries become
louder and deeper in tone, and I begin to feel pride in my
ability to bring my Master off so quickly, looking forward to
feeling your cock burst in my throat. But as you become more
vigorous and frantic, thrusting hard into my mouth, your tool
shoots hard, past my tonsils and deep into my throat. Even
breathing deeply through my nose, I begin to gag at the
roughness of the invasion, but this contraction just brings
about a faster, harder orgasm as you tense and arch your back,
pumping in again as your cock twitches, your balls contract and
you fire one, two, three power-jets of sizzling-hot cum into my
stomach before I wriggle free, coughing as a last ejaculation
splashes wet across my lips, chin and onto my chest. At the same
time, my choking sends your cooling cum pumping out of my ass
into my skimpy, scarlet panties where it pools momentarily
before seeping through the filmy fabric and running down the
inside of my thighs, where it is soaks into and runs over my
stocking tops.
I gasp, half winded and try to breath through my mouth, knowing
that with my nostrils streaming with spunk, I?ll only cause
myself more discomfort by trying to breath through my nose. I
hear your thick voice, close to my right ear as you caress the
back of my neck in a proprietary way, like I?ve been a well
behaved dog or something.
?Well done, my eager, cock-loving little slut,? you taunt
triumphantly.
?Only weeks ago you were bitching about how you were a man, how
you wouldn?t submit, how I couldn?t make you? you continue,
before you pause, taking my chin firmly between your fingers and
tilting my face upwards to look me straight in the eyes.
?Well, with an appetite for cock like yours, honey, it doesn?t
look like I?ll have to bother making you do anything does it,
you little whore??
I try half-heartedly to deny it as you wipe drops of separating
cum from my chin onto your fingers and then into my mouth,
laughing at me. I shake my head slightly, mouthing ?no? through
pouting lips, even as my tongue seeks out your fingers. Knowing
that my actions have betrayed my empty gestures, I feel like the
cheap, pathetic little faggot that you call me, and then begin
to cry silent tears as your laughter becomes louder and more
sneering.
?Oh no, bitch,? you tell me, ?You?ve already graduated way past
the ?make me? stage. You couldn?t get enough of me, could you,
my cock-hungry little faggot,? you snap, taking your hefty, wet
tool and slapping me loudly across the cheek with it. ?And now
look at you, cum dribbling from your chin, cum streaming from
your nostrils, cum running out of your tight, little ass even as
it?s shooting out of your betraying, little cock! You can?t get
enough of it, slut!?
?I hate you!? I exclaim, angrily.
?Perhaps you do, Pussy,? you say in an untroubled voice that
oozes confidence ? perhaps you do, but not half as much as you
hate yourself, and not nearly half so much as you love cock. But
don?t worry honey, you?re going to get plenty of that, so you
should be one happy little cum-sponge?.
Then you stand, pausing only to wipe your wet cock dry in my
hair, before tucking your cock back inside your trousers as you
walk away from me, leaving me alone, in tears on the floor.
After a few seconds of allowing my indulgence, you tell me to
?shut up crying, bitch?.
Then it?s ?stop blubbering, Pussy,? in a softer, more
conciliatory tone. ?You?ve come a very long way, baby and I can
understand that you?re a bit confused right now. We?ve made
fantastic progress together, and I?m quite pleased with you. Not
only do you look like an available, cock-sucking slut, with your
nice, pert titties and your fat, shiny lips, but also you?re
beginning to act like one, of your own free will! You, slut,
just need to start to accept that there are things that you can
do nothing to change, and start to manage your situation the
best you can?.
My tears are now streaming, leaving mascara trails on my cheeks,
as I shake my head and try to wipe your drying cum from my face.
?Now, seriously honey, stop crying,? you say in a more business-
like tone.
?Why should I?? I reply in a sulky voice, sniffing.
?Because while you were giving me that very fine blowjob, the
clock turned past 6:00 and I?m leaving, and I don?t want to
throw you out in the corridor red-eyed, sobbing and half drowned
in cum. It might not look good for me in front of the staff,
sweetie?
I stand and look in your mirror, humiliated even in the way you
reject me. I look a mess. I make for the bathroom annexed to
your office, only to be told that you?re in a rush, and that I
should do the best I can, as quickly as I can. I take a wet-one
from my purse and begin to clean my face of jism and make up.
Then, like the little beautician I?m fast becoming, I apply
translucent foundation, brush on some mascara, dab on a little
blusher and stroke on a thick, gleaming coat of crimson lip
gloss. I purse my lips to get a good covering, then, seeing you
looking at me, and then your watch, I smile, blow you a little
kiss with a false smile on my face and turn to join you to
leave.
?Forgetting something, my little cock-slut?? you ask in that
teasing, half-friendly voice, and I follow your eyes down to the
scrap of damp, red mesh on the floor beneath your chair. ?I
don?t mind if you don?t want to protect your modesty on the way
home, but I do not want you leaving those there for the
cleaners,? you tease, before heading for the door.
I blush bright red, reaching into my purse for a clean pair.
?No time for that, girl. You should have remembered them in the
first place,? you tell me, reaching for the handle that leads to
the corridor.
?Wait, Master, please!? I squeak in trepidation as I quickly
grab my soiled panties and step into them, being sure not to
snag them with my sharp, pointy heels before I quickly tie the
sides tight around my swelling hips. They are cold and
uncomfortable as I pull them up my moist thighs, scooping up
some stray cum from my legs and cheeks. As I follow you for the
now open door, I manage a quick swab of the back of my legs and
my butt with another wet-one, throwing it into the bin as I
leave. I give you my saucy, coquettish little smile, head on one
side as I pass, confidence slightly re-established. You
immediately knock it out of me, smiling and patting me
proprietarily on my damp ass before pulling your hand away in
faux-disgust and giving me your damp hand to lick clean of
spunk. I blush again, feeling humiliated and cheap once more as
I hear you whisper behind me
?Do you think that was yours, or mine, my dirty little slut??
We walk together down the corridor, my heels clip-clopping on
the hard floor, out into the car park. I?m hoping for a lift
home, knowing that there?s a fair amount of leakage still likely
to come out of my ass, and these already saturated panties will
do nothing to soak up the leak. With a skirt as short as mine,
it?s too much to expect that nobody?s going to see that big,
dark, damp patch in the ass of my red-flag panties and maybe
even see the drying, white stains in rings around the patch.
Added to that, I can now feel the throbbing of dark bruises
forming around the stinging red welts on my ass. It won?t take
a genius to work out what I?ve been up to, especially as the
route I?m ordered to take home takes me through the busy mall
and up a couple of steep escalators.
As we approach your car, I summon up some courage and, adopting
my sweetest voice and most innocent face ask
?Any chance of a lift home, Master, please??
My heart sinks as I see the sly grin on your face.
?No chance, slut.? you answer, giving me a dirty look up and
down. ?I?d never live it down at the gym or the sailing club if
anybody saw me with a cheap, seat-wetting, little street-walker
like you in the passenger seat.? And with that cutting remark,
and a snort of derision, you reach down and open up your car,
stopping only to say
?I?ll see you at your place later; around 7:30. You?ll find an
outfit there that I want you to wear to go out in tonight. Make
sure you go home via the mall, slut. I want everybody to see
that fine, cum-filled ass of yours. And remember, you never know
when you?re being watched, so walk nice.?
And with that chilling reminder of my position of subservience,
you start your car and drive away, leaving me alone, facing a
two-mile walk across town in my 4 inch-heeled, ankle strap
stilettos. The heat has built during the afternoon and I know
it?s going to be an unpleasant journey. Even as I take my first
steps, remembering to bring each foot around in an arc to land
on an imaginary tightrope as I?ve been trained, so that my
still-sore ass rolls provocatively, I clench my ring to stop
more cum leaking into my greasy cleft and sodden panties. It?s a
battle that I won?t be able to win. I know that at some stage,
I?ll have to relax and it will probably come gushing out. I face
a choice; one of the very few that I can take for myself these
days and I struggle to focus my brain on making a decision.
?It?s so hard,? I think to myself, ?now that they?re all made
for me.?
I know that if I give-up the fight and relax now, letting the
cold, wet, shit-flecked cargo out of my pussy before I get to
town, there?s a good chance that in this heat I?ll be dry before
I get to the mall, meaning less chance of somebody noticing. On
the other hand, that means consciously allowing the cum to run
out and pool in my panties. My own decision to surrender,
knowing that in these tiny mesh panties, a fair amount will run
straight through and down my buttocks, onto my thighs, on public
display should anybody get close enough to see. I know that even
if I fight, I?ll fail anyway, and the same thing will happen,
probably as soon as I start up the steps at the mall. The irony
of the decision is not lost on me. I recognise the decision as a
microcosm of my current lifestyle. Should I submit to and in
some small way control and minimize the humiliation and hurt by
complying and trying to make the best of things? Or should I put
up a futile fight, knowing that my humiliation and suffering
will ultimately be much, much worse. Knowing that it is a fight
that I will eventually lose, but trying to retain the smallest
modicum of pride?
My ass is already feeling greasier and I?m struggling to hold
on, particularly as the way I?m made to walk stretches my
muscles much further than I?d like. My ass is twitching and,
with a sinking feeling, I realize that fighting will be more
uncomfortable in the short term and much more embarrassing and
painful in the long term if I try to hold on. I wait until a
couple of guys have passed me by, knowing even before I turn to
smile at them that they?ll have spun round to check out my ass.
Once they?re a distance off, and no longer grinning and
whistling, I turn back and, taking a deep breath, relax my
pussy. I feel immediate relief as the cum streams from me. Then
I feel the cold wetness, hear a new squelching sound with every
step, and begin to walk more quickly, hoping that this will
increase the airflow and dry me more quickly. I feel cheap,
degraded, pathetic and dirty, particularly as I?ve been trained
not to wipe the stream from the back of my all-to-visible
thighs. But I don?t feel as bad as I would have done if I?d had
to do this a week or so back, when I first started at my
Master?s company. I realize that this is a big moment in my new
life. I?m finally starting to accept, and live with, my new
situation. Does it feel that bad? No. It feels a lot better than
the last time I fought and found my tits clamped, my ass whipped
and my little clit and balls wired-up to a generator. I now
recognise a new fight; the fight to not upset my owner, to avoid
having to endure such horrible torture, whatever it takes.
With this resolve to co-operate in mind, I straighten up, focus
on my posture and form as I sashay down the pavement, and head
for home, ready to be as accommodating as I possibly can when I
get there, and wondering what my new outfit is like and what
plans Master has in store for me tonight.
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