The Office Dupe Part 6 free porn video

The Office Dupe Part 6 By Deborah Pinto [Author's Note: This work is intended as a continuation of Ms Deborah Ford's magnificent story. That story ended with Linzi, I mean Lindsay Hawkins seemingly entangled permanently in a web of submission to his loving wife's loutish boss, Mr. Davies. We watched him as he was transformed from a sensitive, but (I think) virile, husband into a cringing sissy secretary/maid. However, I believe that Lindsay is of noble spirit, much like myself, so I decided to create a sequel where Linzi escapes this humiliating fate, saves his wife from the evil clutches of Mr Davies, and re-asserts his true manly nature. Unfortunately, the prior momentum of the characters and plot of the story have drawn me into a different direction, for now. However, if the audience and Ms Ford are pleased with this effort I will try again to redirect Linsay on his quixotic journey.] * * * * * * * * * Now for Part 6: The idea of Mr Davies moving in with my wife and me was abhorrent, especially when I considered his apparent romantic intentions towards her. However, I knew that Deborah was a woman of the highest virtue, who had little interest in sexual dalliances. After all, I was her husband of several years and I could count the number times that marriage had been consummated on one hand. Hence, in my mind it was clear that this black brute had no chance of succeeding in his vulgar intentions toward my faithful and loving wife. Comforted by these thoughts, I decided to concentrate on the positive side. The fact that Mr Davies would be living with us could open up vast opportunities for me to finally demonstrate to him my true business talents. While his company was profitable and he seemed to have developed a large and loyal clientele, it was clear that if he wished to keep it that way he would have to make major changes. His current practice of hiring only young women was sure to backfire. Although they were pretty and sexy, they had little or no business sense... just look at the way they had distracted clients from Deborah's presentation with their strutting and posing as they served food and drinks. Did they think that this behavior would impress prospective clients? Absurd, of course! It was clear, therefore, that if I had a chance to work closely with Mr Davies, I could impress him with my numerous skills. That evil bitch, Ms. Morgan would be a thing of the past! Or better yet, maybe I'd keep her in the secretarial pool and treat her like she treated me! Thus, I reconciled myself with the fact that my wife's loutish boss, who was now my boss as well, would be living in our household by recognizing that my wife was impervious to his advances and that it would be financially beneficial to both of our careers. I also realized that he still held the key to my chastity device and the only other way that I could have it removed would be to go to a locksmith. Certainly, I would not allow myself to be put into such a humiliating situation. It would all work out, I thought, somehow. I waited patiently in Mr Davies office while he walked back to his private office with Miss Ford. (I do mean Deborah: I guess I am getting so used to using the formal address in public, I almost forget that I can still call her Deborah in my private thoughts. Can't I??). They must have had some important business matters to discuss because they were in there for quite a while and it was after 6 o'clock before Mr Davies returned. At first I inhaled the scent of what I thought was my wife's perfume but turning I saw it was only Mr. Davies. What a strange cologne for a man, I thought, but then smiled to myself as I suspected that perhaps the ignorant lout had picked up my wife's perfume from he desk by mistake. I tried not to smile at this thought, here he is forcing me to dress as a girl and he's wearing women's perfume! As he leaned to pick up his briefcase I thought I noticed a red mark on his cheek and another smudge on his collar, and shook my head at the fact that he must have coerced my wife into a dutiful peck on the cheek. "Well then, let's be off," he harrumphed, grabbing his case and motioning me toward the door. "We haven't got all day and the limo is already waiting!" "Haven't you forgotten one thing?" I chortled, motioning with a sweeping gesture of my arms that I was still dressed in an office uniform. "No...what do you mean?" he blustered incredulously. "I'm still wearing women's clothes," I gasped, wondering how unobservant this man could be. I fully expected that the buffoon would be embarrassed at my curt remark but unfortunately my enjoyment was short lived. "Of course you are!" he spat back. "You're dressed in our corporate uniform! What's wrong with that? You can change into your Maids uniform when we get home." Oh, the nerve of him, couldn't he ever admit to me that he was wrong? In this case, I wasn't going to tolerate it. "Listen! I came here in male attire and that's the way I plan on leaving!" I schemed defiantly as I stomped my high heel as loudly as I could on the parquet floor to emphasize my resolve. "No, you listen to me, young lady, "the arrogant brute sneered picking up the contract from his desk, "you've signed these papers and if you don't stop acting like a spoiled little brat I will have to put you over my knee again! Do you understand?" "But what will the neighbors say?" I shrieked, my defiance beginning to ebb. "I don't give a rat's ass about the neighbors," he shouted as he moved toward me. Suddenly I realized that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor. "I'm sorry; You're right; I see your point, Mr Davies. Please excuse my misunderstanding," I rambled on foolishly, my resolve completely evaporated as I tried desperately to escape another chastisement. "Well, get your coat on and let's go," he smirked triumphantly, as he raised up his rolled-up copy of my contract, "before I decide to impose Paragraph 16-b." I had no idea what paragraph 16-b was but I sensed it must be dreadful so I decided to save my resistance for a later date and prepared to leave. Knowing that it would be chilly outside as dusk had already settled in, I put a short black leather jacket and exchanged my mary-janes for a pair of over-the-knee spike-heeled boots that Miss Ford had so graciously left for me. Luckily, I was roughly the same size as my wife so, while the boots pinched a little and the jacket fit snugly, it didn't leave me looking like a streetwalker with tight clothing to display her wares. Well, perhaps just a teensy bit tarty in short skirt and high boots. "I'm sure will you be more careful in the future," he said swinging open the doorway and gesturing me toward a private lift where a woman in formal chauffeur's uniform was waiting. She must have been six feet tall with long blonde hair and steel blue eyes. Her black leather jacket and cap matched the tall riding boots and the color scheme was only offset by the tight cream colored breeches, which molded to her shapely legs. "Dis vey, fraulein," she sneered in a heavy German accent, smirking at me as I shuffled in my high heeled boots. Despite the four-inch heels I was still less than eye level with her, as she escorted me into the elevator car. Mr Davies followed behind and I felt nearly crushed between these two tall, powerful figures. "Linzi, this is Miss VonStiefel, and let me assure you that, although she is only my chauffeur, I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect. Is that understood?" "Of course, Mr Davies," I nodded enthusiastically, while fantasizing with erotic desire of the ways that I would really like to treat this Teutonic beauty. Then he handed a bundle of clothing to Ms vonStiefel and instructed her to dispose of it as soon as possible. I recognized the shirt that was used as the wrapper and realized that it was my clothing... my MALE clothing. I started to object but one look at the smirk on Mr Davies face warned me that I had no right to say anything. This set of male clothing was now history. Ms vonStiefel held the door open for Mr Davies and me and the three of us squished into the tiny, private lift. I stood with my back to Mr. Davies but Ms vonStiefel carrying the package of clothing pushed me further and further toward the back of the compartment. I must say that I was enjoying the subtle pressure she was exerting, although the chastity device severely limited my enjoyment, and the smell of her leather outfit permeated my senses. Suddenly I realized that the four-inch heels on my boots put my arse on level with Mr Davies groin as I found myself pressing into him. It seemed innocent enough at first but then I felt something against my backside. It felt almost like he was grinding his hips into me. I thought that it had to be my imagination of course, but why did he then seem to begin thrusting into me? "Excuse me, Mr Davies," I squealed trying to make light of the awkward situation. "Excuse you for what, young lady? For snuggling into me to like a cheap harlot?" he sneered. "We..ll no, I mean I would never " I started, but he grabbed me around the hips and held me as he continued to grind his torso into me. "You little slut," he spat, "you try to get me aroused with those tight little buns and then you pretend that you're not interested! My little slut and her slutty little games can't fool me. I think she needs a good spanking! What do you think Ms vonStiefel?" "Probably a lot more than a spanking, mein Herr," the Aryan Goddess cackled. "She von't even admit that she vas trying to seduz you, mein Herr." "No, she has not shown any remorse at all," the black brute tut- tutted, shaking his head somberly. Well I never, never would have believed the audacity of these two, discussing my behavior - MY Behavior - as if I had done something wrong. And now they were discussing my punishment as if I weren't even there. Didn't they think they should hear MY side of the story. Well let me tell you, I have stood up to bullies all of my life and if they thought for one minute I was going to debase myself by admitting to the ghastly comments Mr Davies was making out my character, they had another thought coming. I was going to show them that maybe some silly girls in the secretarial pool would cave in to this type of harassment but Linzi Hawkins was not the type of girl, I mean man, that they could idly toy with. "What would you suggest?" "Leaf her for one hour vit me," she mused, as she nonchalantly stepped back pressing me harder into Mr Davies, "I'm sure I can teach her some proper respect." "The last time I did that, one of the girls from the secretarial pool was in the hospital for a week, but I must say she did not give me any problems after that," the haughty male laughed, all the while still grinding into my backside. "I think maybe just a good bare-bottom spanking in the back seat of the car!" Ms vonStiefel nodded in agreement and as finally reached the garage level, I could see a stretch limousine was waiting. Ms vonStiefel dispatched the package of clothing into a nearby dumpster and opened the car door for Mr Davies and myself. I was already putting together an irrefutable argument to defend my actions, and I could hardly wait to let him and his chauffeur know the type of man they were dealing with. He entered the car first sitting in the middle of the back seat but as I bent to enter, I barely had time to observe the size and elegance of the vehicle before the ebony skinned monster grabbed my wrist and splayed me over his lap. "Well, my pretty little slut, I think we may as well get this over with promptly. Justice delayed is justice denied," he laughed as his powerful hand dragged me into a perfect ass- raised, ready-for-a-spanking position. "The little slut looks too eager, Mr Davies," Ms vonStiefel sneered as she pushed my legs fully into the vehicle with her boots before she closed the door, locking it behind me. "Up with your skirt, young lady," Mr Davies ordered, his tone turning completely serious. Between the tone of his voice and the viselike grip of his hand on my wrist, I lost track of my carefully constructed arguments and found that all I could do was squeal a few desperate appeals for mercy. "Noooo...oh please nooo..., Mr Davies," I whined as I futilely kicked and squirmed, "You don't understand..." my voice trailed off recognizing that he had turned a deaf ear to my pleas. "Pull down those panties!" he added as I lifted the skirt over my back and wriggled my panties down to my knees. I was sure that if I resisted, he could have easily performed both tasks himself but no, the bastard! He wanted me to demonstrate acceptance of my own humiliation. But, I was in no position to object, was I? So I meekly obeyed his insulting orders and nervously awaited his assault on my exposed and already reddened backside. "First. I want you to tell me why you deserve this punishment!" he demanded as the limo pulled out of the parking space. Thank goodness the windows on the vehicle were heavily tinted, I thought to myself, or the whole scene would be witnessed by every passing pedestrian or occupants of other vehicles as we slowly exited the congested business district of the city. Only the window between the driver and the passenger compartments was lowered giving Ms vonStiefel a clear view of the proceedings. "Uh... I guess that you thought I was coming on to you, Mr Davies," I started, fuming inside because I knew quite well that there was no way that I had come on to him. Just thinking about the way he was forcing a confession out of me made my blood boil even further. Not only was it obvious that he was the one pushing against me in the elevator but even now I could feel his manhood jutting up from his lap. The evil cad! Someday I would show him! Perhaps in a court of law where justice was the rule, rather than brute strength, I would show him that he couldn't treat me like some two-bit hussy. If only he weren't so powerful, I would show him! But for now, I resigned myself to the fact that I had no choice other than to endure his disgustingly crass behavior. I could only hope that the bastard would stop his lewd grinding against me when he finished with my chastisement. THWAAKkk: his beefy palm landed on my bare buttocks, sending a jolt of pain through my body. "You guess that I only thought that you were coming on to me? Like there may be a question involved? That sounds very insincere, young lady. It doesn't sound like you want to take responsibility for your slutty behavior, Linzi. Well that attitude is just fine, but it will just add ten more strokes!" THWAAKkk: the second stroke landed. Knowing full well the power of his strokes and, despite my complete innocence, I decided to pretend that it was all my fault. "I'm sorry," I whimpered in my most cloying and subservient tone, "I really meant to say that I was very, very sorry for trying to seduce you by rubbing against you in the elevator." THWAAKkk: another blow. "Just tell me then, Linzi, what did you want me to do? Let you suck my big black cock?" Oh the contemptible lout! How gross could one man be? I thought, he was the one grinding into me NOT the other way around! But unfortunately, I was in no position to give him a hard time (if you'll excuse the expression). Once we got home Miss Ford would be told about his behavior and something would be done. Therefore, I went along with his foolishness... for now. "Yes, Mr Davies, I wanted you to let me suck your big black cock. Please forgive me. I'll never do it again." I hoped that the monotone of my confession didn't sound too sarcastic, but I just couldn't force any enthusiasm into my remarks. THWAAKkk: again my flesh burned. THWAAKkk. THWAAKkk. The blows came hard one after the other until I thought I had counted ten... only TEN! Then I felt him lift my chin up as he pushed me off of his lap to my knees at his feet. It was over? Indeed, Mr Davies was finally showing some compassion. "Linzi, Linzi Linzi," Mr Davies tsk-tsked looking into my blue eyes as if talking to wayward child, "what will we ever do with you? Always trying to satisfy those slutty urges. Well, you caught me at a weak moment. Unzip my fly and take out 'Mr ebony' and go ahead!" "Wha...what?" I blurted out never expecting him to actually take me up on fraudulent confession, "but you know I can't, Sir, I'm married to Miss Ford." "Well that didn't stop you from humping into me did it?" he snarled, his black skin glowing with a red hue. "I guess you want to act like a little cock-tease, eh. Well that doesn't work with real men! Now do as your told and start behaving or I'll make you sorrier than you've ever been!" "No... ohhh... nooo, please Mr Davies," I bawled, "I never really wanted to suck your cock, I only said that to... er..." my voice trailed off not knowing how to work my way out of my web of lies. "To what, get me horny?" he sneered, raising his huge hand waving menacingly at me. Then he yelled up to Ms vonStiefel. Take us to the meat-packing district. I think we can teach our little slut some manners." The meat-packing district was at one time what its name indicated but many years ago that industry had vacated leaving the area abandoned until the sturdy buildings were taken over by a series of unsavory businesses, and now consisted mostly of gay leather and biker bars. Hence, its title only made sense in historical terms or as a very telling description of the sexual activities so frequently conducted there. The local law enforcement had long ago given up hopes of controlling the morals of its denizens. Policemen entered the area only when the mayhem grew to near riot level, or perhaps to fulfill their own personal needs. As we drove toward this district, Mr Davies opened the side windows of the car so that passersby and passengers of other vehicles could see my predicament. At a few traffic lights, truck drivers delightedly yelled encouragement and even inquired about the price of my services. Kneeling between his legs as I was, I could only get glimpses of their faces and reactions. One car with a group of black women in it offered to take my place and called me a "honky slut" as they threatened to kick my white ass. I was sure that they would have had greater sympathy for me if they could see how red my "white ass" already was and if they knew the true nature of this black brute, before whom I knelt. Still, I could not help but to blush further at their taunts. We now started going down some desolate and dangerous looking streets until we reached a block of well-lit bars and clubs, with a few curio shops. Although there were cars parked on the street, the major mode of transportation seemed to be the motorcycle, mostly big Harleys, row of which lined the curb. The names of the clubs "Meat Packer", "Log Jam" and "Leather Cycles" gave hints as to the targeted clientele. The streets were packed with a variety of leather-clad men and individuals, who were dressed as and many of whom actually were women. Apparently most of the bars and clubs were yet to open but the regulars were already putting on a leather fashion show as they waited to gain access to their favorite spots. Ms vonStiefel brought the limo to a stop in the middle of the intersection and got out of the car and walked around to passenger door. The crowd seemed to come to a dead silence broken only by the loud and ominous click of her boot-heels on the cobblestones. "Get OUT!" she ordered sternly, as Mr Davies moved his powerful legs so that I was free to move. Despite my "freedom" I couldn't move, after all, where was I to go? The crowd gathering around the car looked far more dangerous and sadistic than even Mr Davies. "Mach shnell!" screamed the leather-clad chauffeur, impatiently slapping the shaft of her boot with some sort of swagger stick. Meekly I crept out of the car as the crowd started a cacophony of wolf-whistles and catcalls. "C'mon babe, I'll teach you not to be naughty," cried one beer-bellied loudmouth, clad in a heavy leather biker jacket and calf-high boots. "Is that really a girl or just another boy trying to become the 'Queen of England'," cooed one husky voiced 'lady', whose tiara sat slightly askew on her ringleted hair. I couldn't move except to drop to my knees and cling to Ms vonStiefel's boots, pleading as I looked up at her imperious countenance. "Please don't leave me here, I will do anything that you say," I bawled loudly, bringing a further round of hoots and mocking sighs from the crowd. What would become of me here, I thought. I had no money and was dressed as some sort of tawdry schoolgirl in hooker boots and a pleated skirt. I remembered what had happened to me at the party when I escaped. Even though I was found by the police, they had assumed I was a two-bit whore and had brought me back not to my home but to my abusers... Miss Morgan and Mr Davies. "It's up to Mr Davies now mein schatz," mocked my Amazon antagonist as I laid kisses on her boots, inhaling he scent of the freshly polished leather. "One last chance, Linzi? Maybe," Mr Davies mulled aloud as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger. "Just tell me what you want to do, but say it loud enough so that everyone in the street can hear. I want to make sure there are plenty of witnesses in case you try to deny it again." "Please, Mr Davies," I sobbed, "I want to " "Louder, slut," he ordered, his black features framing his grinning white teeth. "PLEASE, MISTER DAVIES," I started again, loud enough to be heard in the street, I want to... er... to..., to...," I stammered unable to get the vile words out. "To what?" he demanded, his grin turning into a scowl. "Let's go, mein Herr," the cruel chauffeur hissed, kicking me away from her boots. "The little slut vill be vell taken care uff here!" "Close the door, Ms vonStiefel," the black bastard commanded turning away from me but luckily I was kneeling in the door and despite the efforts of ms vonStiefel to kick me away with her powerful boots, she could not get the door closed. "PLEASE, SIR! I WANT..., I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my forehead falling to rest on the floor of the car. It was loud enough, I knew for everyone on the street to hear, but what choice did I have? "Tell me more precisely what you want to do, slut," the bastard sneered, turning his eyes ever so slightly toward the pathetic figure I presented as I knelt on the cobbles, with my head resting on the floor of the car. "I WANT TO SUCK YOUR BIG BLACK COCK, SIR! AND FEEL YOU COME IN MY MOUTH" I shouted again so that all could hear my utter humiliation. "Ms vonStiefel, let her back in but leave the car door open," he ordered in firm modulated tones that contrasted with my shrill shouts and emphasized the vast disparity in our status. The haughty bitch gave me a firm kick in the ass that sent me flying into the car, sprawled at Mr Davies's feet. A part of me felt rather amused as I sensed her displeasure at my agreement at last to serve Mr Davies in this vile, loathsome manner. My only consolation was that by doing so I was probably depriving Ms vonStiefel of her desire to service Mr Davies herself. At least I would be messing up her plans! "You may take it out now, slut," the contemptible lout ordered, as if he were allowing me some great honor. I would have loved to have set the record straight right there and then, but thought better of it when I looked out at the unruly crowd gathering outside the car. No doubt I would suffer a worse fate at their hands than whatever indignity Mr Davies imposed on me. Hence, I dutifully positioned myself on my knees between his legs, while he sat back, relaxing with his hands behind his head. "YES, Sir," I cooed, all the while turning my eyes from side to side waiting for the door, and hopefully the windows as well, to be closed so that I would at least be spared the gawking stares of the perverts crowding around the car. But instead of the door closing the door on the other side was opened to allow even more spectators gain a view of my humiliation. "What are you waiting for, Linzi?" the arrogant man sneered, "we haven't all day do we? After all, your wife is expecting you for dinner, isn't she?" "Yes, sir," I babbled meekly, "but I thought we could have, er you know, privacy." "Linzi, Linzi Linzi! That's what I wanted too, dearie," he cooed, tapping me on the cheek with a firm hand, "but you didn't behave yourself, did you?" "Er , no, sir," I lied, biting my lip, at the very thought of it. If only I could tell this bastard off! But I knew all I could do was wait until I get home and tell my wife about his loutish behavior. Together we would escape his insidious web. She would make him sorry. But, for now all I could do was play along with his evil game. "No, sir. I was not a good girl," I ad-libbed hoping to gain some mercy from him. "Well then I think we should let everyone see just what a little slut you are!" he bellowed drawing a great cheer from the crowd and I dutifully went to work unzipping his trousers. He was wearing a bright red silk pair of boxer shorts under his trousers which were lose enough to let me easily pull out his semi-flaccid member. My god, I thought to myself, how big will this thing be when it is fully aroused. It had to be over six inches in its present condition and its massive un-circumcised head was still half hidden in its neat little helmet. Certainly it more than evidenced at least one of those stereotypes attributed to his African race. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like it before. My apparatus was only 4 and ? inches fully erect and I had been circumcised at infancy. It was almost as if his were a different male gender than mine. There was a part of me that wished I could tell my wife about this but how could I let her know how I found out? Thank goodness, I thought to myself, that size was not one of my loving wife's concerns. I started to caress the tip bringing it out of its sheath as the vile piece of flesh telescoped out toward me, almost as if its evil, dripping eye could see my mouth and was surging to fill it. Wrapping both of my hands around it I speculated that it had to be at least eight inches plus the two or three additional inches, which lay outside of my grasp. One consoling thought was that any worry of my wife's having been intimate with him was completely defused. After all, she was the one who had told me that it was only a myth that some men were over 6 inches. I laughed thinking of her reaction if she ever saw this grotesque monster whose dripping eye seemed to be staring me in the eye. I was brought back to my senses by a blow to my ear. "Kiss the tip of it, bitch. 'Mr Ebony' needs a little affection!" Dutifully I complied. "Now open up - wide, bitch. You know that's what you want!" There was no escaping it now. I formed my lips into a big 'O' barely wide enough for the bulbous head to enter. Then I began to bring it into my mouth. My mouth could only accept about half of it so I began bobbing up and down to at least service that half of the rod, all the while working his remaining rigidity with my hands. Then I felt his beefy hands behind my neck driving my head forward, but try as I might my mouth could accept only so much. "Ms vonStiefel, doesn't this slut know how to deep throat a man?" the enraged bully spat out gasping in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. "I haff not bin invulved in eet's training, mein Herr, but we haf vays to make little whores open up," she sneered as she raised one of the seat which concealed a 'toy chest' and pulled out a thick black dildo. "Sometimes a little opening up at vun end helps loosen the uther." The crowd oohed and ahhed as it watched the Teutonic Goddess strap the latex instrument around her hips and positioned herself between my booted legs. Throwing my skirt up over my back and pulling down my panties, she began to drive the evil instrument home. "I am sure you vill like dis, slut, it is a complete replica of Mr Ebony," she sneered as I felt the cold rubber head against my colon. With each thrust of her hips I gasped slightly but enough for Mr Davies to drive his cock down my throat. "Oh yes, Ms vonStiefel, her throat's like tight pussy... like a virgin, eh?" he bellowed as he inched his tool further and further down. "And like a whore down here," his Chauffeur moaned as she easily entered the passageway so recently opened up by Miss Thomas. Ms vonStiefel could hardly have been getting any physical pleasure through her leather breeches but undoubtedly she was turned on by taking the male role in completing my defilement. My booted legs kicked out in a futile effort to deter her but to no avail. My mind tried to summon up resistance but the booted bitch took full charge and my ass seemed to involuntarily rise to meet her thrusts. Although my to moans and gasps of pleasure were muffled by the black man's cock, they made it clear that, in this war of wills, I had taken second place. I could feel my own cock swelling in its confinement as Ms vonStiefel reached beneath me to play with my 'clitty'. Unfortunately the chastity belt allowed no further pleasure, hence, only heightening my frustration. As I wrapped my arms around Mr. Davies muscular legs bracing myself, I felt his legs stiffen and then his hips started rocking. The next thing I knew, I heard an almost silent sigh, I thought I was drowning in his cum and his powerful cock unloaded a blast of his vile, thick juices. I would have spat it out, no matter what the consequence of such action, but the still pulsating slab of meat, which filled my mouth, prevented me from doing anything but swallowing all of the foul-tasting gism. Surprisingly though, it went down rather smoothly leaving me sucking every drop off of the hairy crotch before I realized that his hands were no longer keeping my head in place. I swallowed every drop, except a small amount that had dribbled out of my mouth and down my chin. "Oooo hhh, isn't that cute Mr Davies," the bitchy chauffeur cooed, "she's like a little baby sucking ze last drop out uff her bottle! Maybe she would like to clean this as well," she cackled as she pulled the artificial phallus out of my bottom so fast it made a loud 'ker-plop' sound. The jealous bitch! I thought, she's still mad because I got what she wanted! Probably because he thinks I'm cuter, I consoled myself! Thank goodness I realized what was behind her sadistic actions because otherwise I may have completely lost myself respect as she sat down next to Mr Davies and forced me to clean the blood and shit off of her 11-inch tool. Finally having cleaned it to Mr Davies' satisfaction, Ms vonStiefel unstrapped it and tied the harness around my head, leaving it to serve as a dildo gag. "Good idea! I think the less this slut talks the less trouble she'll get into," Mr Davies laughed admiring how the chauffeur had transformed the dildo into a fine gag. A quick motion toward his exposed crotch made me aware that my duties were not quite finished. So I gently took the now flaccid, lipstick-stained member and gently tucked it back beneath his silk boxers and re- zipped his fly. "Good girl," he smiled wickedly and testing the sturdy straps holding the dildo in my mouth added, " and this will get you used to 'Mr Ebony', my dear." "Und vit dis in place, she vunt be able to seduce the other boys as easily," the Chauffeur chimed in, giving the harness straps a playful tug, and the two sadists laughed at the joke. With that the Ms vonStiefel stepped out of the car and closed the doors. "Show's over!" she announced to the still gawking crowd, many of whom were shouting out offers to purchase my services for the night. Many others, male, she-male and female, were equally interested in taking my place in serving Mr Davies or evil Chauffeur. Lucky me! I was in a position to serve them both. * * * * * * * * * * Mr Davies slept the rest of the way home but I was not allowed to sit in any of the lounge-style seats that rimmed the passenger compartment. Instead I was ordered to kneel at his feet and he would occasionally pull my head into his lap sleepily rubbing his groin into my face. Typical male, I thought to myself, he has an orgasm and goes to sleep. No regard at all for my feelings! This wasn't the way to treat a girl! I consoled myself with the thought that someday I might be able to use this character weakness to entrap him! After a half-hour drive, the limo pulled in through the gates of a large mansion. Where were we, I wondered. Mr Davies sleepily looked up and sensed the puzzlement in my expression. "Welcome home," he announced, looking at me quizzically before adding "are you surprised?" "Where are we?" I gasped, as he unstrapped the cruel penis gag. "This is my home, and, for a while anyway, it will be your home as well. Are you impressed?" "But I thought that we were going to MY home!" I spat out somewhat indignantly. "Oh! You must mean Debbie's house," he interjected, his eyes twinkling at the insinuation that I was dependent on my wife for my home. He was right of course but did he have to remind me of it! And he knew how much I hated when he called her 'Debbie'. I was her husband and could only call her 'Deborah' - well at least before I was ordered to call her 'Miss Ford'. Rather than make a point about it being my house as well, I decided to let him get away with this minor faux pas and force him to explain why he brought me here. Deborah was of course expecting us to go home where we would share our marital bed, or at least the bedroom since she often couldn't sleep with my snoring and moving in the bed. "Whatever," I lashed out, "Miss Ford, I believe is expecting us home tonight, and she will be sorely disappointed when 'm not there!" "Please stop with your foolishness. Do you think I would have brought you here without your wife's permission?" he postulated, surprising me with his logic of gaining my wife's permission but thinking that there was no need to inform me of the plan. "Your house is a fine little house, very suitable for a married couple, of course. But if I'm going to get my work done and have room for staff, I need something a little larger, don't you think?" "Well..." I started, but before I could get a second word out I was cut off by a sharp snap of his fingers, as if he had no real interest in my opinion. "Ms vonStiefel, get this little slut, washed up and changed into something more appropriate. Tony is bringing Debbie home in the Jaguar and I expect her to be home in about ten. Hopefully the little Linzi will have a decent meal ready by then." Then holding up a little silver key, he added, "and you better take this with you, if the little hussy is to be properly washed. But no games now!" "The maids outfit I assume," she suggested. "Of course!" he scowled. "Shoudt she keep dese boots on?" "I think they were not so scuffed... how did the knees get so scuffed up anyway? Such a slut, always on her knees!" he mused aloud, knowing full well that it was he who had ordered me out of the limo - he who had me on my knees - and I was the Slut? Oh, if only I hadn't signed that contract, I would tell him off! His ears would be as red as my backside! "Noo.. " he concluded, after giving it deep thought, "not the boots. The stilettos; the ones with the ankle straps!" Another major managerial decision, from this dolt, I snickered to myself! With that, I was sent to the shower to wash up shave and change into my maids uniform. Ms vonStiefel accompanied me upstairs and to my utmost pleasure she unlocked the evil chastity belt, resulting in a formidable (as formidable as 4 and ? inches could look) erection. "Vee are only doing dis so that vee can shave those pubic hairs so do not get any silly ideas!" She snapped as she slid off the painful apparatus. Despite her warnings my cock had a mind of its own and sprung out to full attention. However, she had other plans and quickly threw me into the shower and handed me a special depilatory lotion. The lotion stung a little but I applied as she directed. Even though my legs and armpits had been regularly shaved under orders from Deborah, Ms vonStiefel ordered me to apply lotion there as well as to my arms, chest, back and genitalia. Stepping out of the shower I felt somewhat like a plucked chicken with all of the hair below my neck totally eradicated. The lotion had stung, but not painfully so and not enough to dissuade my little head from acting on his own. Amazingly the breast forms had remained perfectly attached despite the fact that I had blasted them with hot water well above my usual tolerance level. I thought Ms Morgan had indicated that they would come off in hot water? Well, I was sure that the problem would be straightened out soon enough. For now I would merely enjoy them bobbing up and down as if they were the real things As I turned toward the booted chauffeur, my artificial breasts and my manhood were lewdly and defiantly aimed right at her. "I bet you would you like to cum?" she queried, knowing full well the answer. "More than anything in the world, Ms vonStiefel," I whimpered, head down in shame, before this powerful woman. "Does that mean that you will do anything?" she sneered, railing one eyebrow in a theatrical gesture. "Yes... , anything...," I managed to babble, my voice trailing off ant the thought of 'anything'... maybe I was going to far, but I had not cum in days now and I had been teased and tormented beyond all rational levels. Usually I would have masturbated two or three times without any stimulus but, after all I had been through, I felt like my head would explode if I didn't get relief. "Yes, I'm sure you vill," she snickered, "sluts vill do anything for sex von't they? Here, slut, put these on, I like my sluts to look sexy!" she ordered handing me a set of red lingerie including bra, garter belt and stockings. She held up a matching pair of panties, but folded them and put them down. "You von't need them right now," she chortled. Quickly I donned the feminine finery. I rolled on the stockings, under her watchful eye, ensuring that the back seams were perfectly straight. She looked at me with such utter loathing and contempt that I felt it imperative to dispel some of her opinions of me. "I'm not a slut, Ms vonStiefel," I whined, unconvincingly. "Then vat are you?" she wheedled as she motioned with her finger that I should twirl around for her inspection. "I'm a good gir..., er..., I mean BOY; I'm a BOY!" I bellowed trying to correct my momentary loss of sexual identity. "You may be a 'good girl' but you certainly don't look like a 'boy' of any sort," the haughty bitch mocked. "Do boys wear bras and stockings and garterbelts? I don't think so! And as far as 'good girl', do good girls go around without panties, showing off their swollen clitties?" My countenance reddened from anger and embarrassment as I bristled at her innuendoes. "Don't call me a slut," I fumed, my hands clenching into fists, "or I'll... I'll..." I thought that leaving the threat open would be more dramatic but Ms vonStiefel just laughed at me. "Or vat?" she squealed delightedly as she spread her legs and placed her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture. "Are you going to get rough vit me? Are you going to show me who's boss?" Without my high-heeled boots on, the imperious goddess towered over me menacingly. I was afraid but after all I was a man, wasn't I? I started to reach for her when her arms came up knocking mine aside. I tried to throw a punch at her smirking face but her hand came up and caught my fist in mid-arch. Her mouth broke into a smile, as she flashed her perfect set of white enamel. "So you like to play rough, ehh, mein kleines schatz-ie. Well, so do I!" she laughed as her powerful hand crushed my knuckles, leaving me in such pain that I was forced to drop to my knees before she released the powerful grip. Numb with pain my right arm was useless and she grabbed me by the left hand and twisted it behind my back, and snapped it up to the point that I thought it was broken or dislocated. Then with my arms unable to break the fall, she pushed me down face first, to the floor. Blood was trickling out of my mouth and nose as I felt the sole of her boot press down on my neck driving my face into the carpet. "Enough of your silly games, slut? Or do you want to try again?" I tried to just close my eyes and cry quietly not only from the physical pain but also at the idea of this woman defeating me with such impudence. "Answer me, schwein!" she demanded. "Please no more," I whimpered meekly. "Then show me who's boss, slut-girl," she snarled, "lick the boots of the woman who beat you!" How utterly degrading. But I knew that resistance was useless so I raised my face from the carpet and acquiesced to her command. Soon her boots were glistening with my wet saliva, from toe to knee. "Yes I think my little slut likes my boots doesn't she?" "Yes," I blubbered, almost refusing to lift my tongue off of the gleaming leather, but uncomfortable with the erotic feeling I was deriving from the humiliating act. To me the boots somehow symbolized the power of this beautiful woman and I was erotically drawn to her power. Sitting back on the bed she raised the sole of her right boot and ordered me to lick even the sole. Unquestioning, I heeded her command, servicing one boot-sole and than the other. "Enough, my little bootlicking slut. Now help me off with my boots." From my kneeling position, I tried to yank the boot off but to no avail as the boots seemed molded to her feet and legs. Then she gestured me to rise and straddle her leg, facing away from her. As I pulled, I could feel my sex organ rubbing against the shiny shaft and was afraid that I would cum on the spot. The boot still wouldn't budge until finally she placed the sole of her other foot on my bare bum and pushed, sending me and the boot flying across the room, head over heels. After the other boot was removed in similar fashion, she ordered me to lick her sweaty white knee socks. As I lay prostrate at her feet licking her socks she stood up and peeled off her tight breeches, revealing to my surprise a pair of very mannish, white jockey shorts. "I'm going to make you my bitch, girl," she sneered looking down on me". Do you vant to me meine kleine bitch?" she added with a laugh. "Yes, Mi mistress," I stammered. "Nein, not 'Mistress'" she spat at me contemptuously, "I want you to call me 'Master', Master Helga'!" "Yes, mein Herr," I ad-libbed, but that only got me a face full of sock. "'MASTER Helga', get it," she snarled. "Yes, Master Helga," I sobbed. "Now, bitch, fetch me my cock. It's in my bag," she added motioning toward a large black leather carryall on the floor. "On your knees, slut. Crawl like the bitch you are. And bring it." Not sure of exactly what she meant I opened the bag and found a huge double headed dildo with leather harness straps already attached. My god, even the smaller end was too much for me to handle. I laid the lewd implement at her feet, but a hard slap across the top of my head indicated that perhaps I hadn't responded correctly to her commands. "Put it vare it belongs, bitch!" she snapped opening up the flap on her jockey shorts with two fingers off each hand. "Not that end the other," she added as I tried to aim the larger end toward the target. The arrogant woman began to moan as I inserted the thick latex into the opening and then went utterly ecstatic as I fastened the straps around her hips. It was bad enough that I was going to be impaled on the lewd latex shaft, but here I was forced to participate in my own degradation. "Suck eet, bitch," she snarled as she pistol-whipped me with the heavy tool. "Tell me how much you vant me to fuck you!" I lapped away more eagerly than was really necessary and couldn't help but to wonder if she was right - did I really want her to bum-fuck me? "OHHH, yes, Master Helga, I want feel you inside me," I gurgled as I greedily coated the latex rod with a thick coat of my saliva. "Gut fraulein," she squealed as the motion of my cock-sucking on the outside end of the dildo amplified the action inside of her. Her juices were dripping down the base of the shaft and I started to lap these up but she grabbed me by the ears and forced my mouth onto the tip of her 'cock', as She ordered me to "take it in - take it all in - swallow it, you slut!" I couldn't believe myself. Not only did I obey every command, but I followed each one with a lewd display of enthusiasm, which was over and above anything demanded or expected of me. "Ohhh...yesssss. Ummfff.., ahhh.. uhhh ," I moaned, my words turning to indecipherable moans, as I took her huge tool in both hands and slid it down my throat. Although it was even bigger, it slid down my throat far more easily than "Mr Ebony" had earlier that night. Despite my enthusiasm, Ms vonStiefel was clearly unimpressed and took me by the ears and began to slam my head up and down on her "cock". "Suck eet, bitch! Suck eet like the two-bit whore you are!" she spat out angrily. "Get eet nice und vet so ee vill slide up dat tight little pussy." Finally she stopped and pushed me to the floor gasping for air. Stepping over to the bed she piled a few of the pillows in the middle and then draped her glossy black riding boots over the middle of the pile. "You like my boots don't you, schatz-ie," she chortled. "Well, I'm going to let you fuck my boots while I fuck you," she added with a sneer, "because that's all you're gut for - you bootlicking, bootfucking little slut!" I quickly scampered into position, but as I started to gyrate my hips provocatively, the door suddenly flew open. It was Mr Davies. "And what is going on here?" he snapped, although clearly the situation was self-explanatory. "Who freed her from her chastity belt," he added, "don't you know I am the only one who can give her freedom!" I looked back at the raging black bull as I felt my male member shrinking in fear. He was dressed in fox hunting apparel, a bright red jacket white breeches and tall black boots with cordovan tops. A stiff leather whip was clasped firmly in his right hand as he strode menacingly into the room. "Is this little slut trying to use her feminine wiles to get out of her duties?" he added as he slapped a stiff leather quirt against the shaft of his boot. Me! Me to blame, I gasped to myself. Couldn't he see that I was only the victim of Ms vonStiefel's carnal desires? Why did he try to turn me, the victim, into the defendant? Typical male! I had a good mind to really give him a piece of my mind. But the quirt was still in his hand so perhaps it had better wait for a more opportune moment. "Yes, Mr Davies, I'm sorry, it is all my fault, but as you can see the little tramp can be very captivating, eet's hard sometimes to resist her enticements," Ms vonStiefel offered in a defense that took the blame but plopped it right back on my shoulders. Oh the nerve of her! "How dare you say... " I started, but was cut off immediately by Mr Davies' quirt smacking loudly against my bum. "Please, Linzi, haven't you and your carnal urges caused enough difficulty? Ms Morgan has already arrived and Miss Ford could be here any Minute. And look she's not even dressed - and she still has to get her make-up on!" "Yes, tramp," Ms vonStiefel sneered, "enough of your tawdry games! Get your uniform on and get that make-up fixed and..." "Wait! First, let me see how well that depilatory worked," he interjected, as he pulled me close and began moving my arse and legs and hands and other miscellaneous body parts as if I were some sort of farm animal on the auction block. "Very good, indeed," he nodded, "smooth a baby's butt." I shuddered as his hands so knowledgeably explored my body. I could hardly control my body as I trembled and quaked until finally I found myself collapsing against his strong, powerful body. His muscular arms enveloped me as his huge beefy hands roughly enfolded my latex breast forms. "I think we'll have to get her some real ones," he laughed as he licentiously fondled them. But as he did so I found myself secretly wishing that they were real so I could feel his hands ravishing me rather than only the faint, muffled feeling through the artificial forms. One last pinch of my chest just below the bra line gave me small sense of the real thing and I found myself falling back into his arms for support. "Enough, tramp, get ready!" he mocked pushing me away. "Haven't you delayed things enough." His push brought me back to my senses and made me realize how truly slutty my performance had been. "I'm so sorry, Mr Davies, forgive me," I whined as I fell to my knees, my hands clasped in supplication. But he pushed me away with his booted foot, and menaced me with his wicked crop before he spun around to leave the room, giving Ms vonStiefel instructions to get me ready - "and be quick about it!" "Mach schnell, mach schnell!" she shrieked maniacally. Thank goodness she wasn't the one with the crop or undoubtedly I would have felt it. * * * * * * * * * * * Soon I was dressed for service. The maids uniform fit me as if it were custom tailored except for the hem, which was so short it barely covered my stocking tops. Clearly, I concluded, the outfit must have been originally intended for someone else. The bodice, with its lacy white trim barely covered my red 'wonder- bra', which pushed my pecs together and combined with the breast molds to form, if I must say so myself, a most alluring cleavage. Ms vonStiefel ordered me to leave on my red bra and garterbelt. She considered leaving the red stockings on me, but decided that black, seamed ones would be more appropriate. Then, only with the help of a bucket of ice water, she had me reattach my chastity belt. With the belt in place she then took out a butt plug, which she lubed and bent me over her knee to insert it into my aching bum. Finally, allowed me to don the matching red panties and sat me down to apply makeup to my scrubbed face. Given the lightness of my beard, she applied only a thin layer of foundation, more to cover my acne than my facial hair, and then applied a nice blush to give me that perky look. My eyelashes always seemed long enough to me, but they were not long enough for Ms vonStiefel and soon I had a pair of long black artificial lashes fluttering over my eyes. So long that I had to remove my glasses, leaving me nearly blind. Ms vonStiefel assured me that contact lenses or perhaps corrective surgery would cure this, but for now I found myself staring at a blurry world. "A maid does not have to see long distances, its not like you're being turned into a jet pilot," she laughingly suggested. Thick black eyeliner and blue eye shadow with glitter completed my eye makeup. My lips were then filled with a bright red lipstick and a dark red outline, which gave them a pouty, sensual look. Finally I was given a pair of black spike-heeled, lace-up booties that came just up to my calves. At the top of each boot was a leather strap with a metal clasp and tiny padlock. "Zey take ze same key as your chastity belt," I was assured, when my warden saw my puzzled look. I knew there was no purpose to protesting, so I simply got about my business. The heels had to be at least 4 inches and despite my previous efforts I wasn't sure that I could maneuver in this sexy footwear. While I was lacing up my booties, I saw that Ms vonStiefel was changing into formal dress for the evening. She had discarded her white skivvies and was now donning a pair of black panties that were almost as exquisite as my red ones. Next she fastened a heavily-wired, long line bra, with half cups that supported her heavy mammaries without covering her nipples and areolae. Since my wife always dressed in private, and of course I was a virgin before meeting her, I was mesmerized by sight of his goddess exposing herself to me without the slightest inhibition. Indeed she seemed to be almost taunting me as she rolled her stockings up her curvaceous legs. She bent over so that her huge tits were pointed straight at me. "Luckily vee girls are by ourselfes," she chortled, "can you imagine if there ver a mahn in here! I bet he vut be excited - no?" IF there were a man I steamed to myself. What was I! I thought until I looked into a full-length mirror on the back of the door. What was I? I looked at myself and all I could see was a curvaceous French maid staring back at me - the type of sweet young thing that I would have hit on in a moment if the opportunity had ever arisen. Ms vonStiefel donned a formal, black leather gown. Although it was floor length with a high collar and appeared rather conservative from the back, when she turned to face me all I could look at was the low cut bosom which all but revealed her ample breasts. In addition the skirt was slit up both legs almost to her hips, and when she strode her stockings and garters were clearly visible. Then she pulled on a pair of thigh high spike-heeled boots and zipped them up, as she smiled at my drooling face. Then she slithered one arm into one black leather, opera glove and slapped me with the other. "Ar ze boots locked? Gut! Mach shnell, slut, you look like a beautiful tart. Herr Davies ez vaitink," she barked as she snapped a slave collar around my throat. Passing by the full mirror a whorish maid gaped back at me as momentarily forgot what or whom I was looking at. We headed for the main drawing room where the guests were to assemble before moving to the dining room and eventually to the "playroom". On the way there, Ms vonStiefel gave me a quick tour of the mansion. We had been in one of the lesser guest bedrooms, but she pointed out the hall to the servants' rooms a neat dormitory like setting. I noted six doors and a bathroom at the end of the hall. The guest bedrooms were all substantial and exquisitely decorated. There were five of these and one seemed grander than the next. At the end of this wing the building fanned out allowing for two monstrous bedrooms: the King and the Queen bedroom suites. I was told all of the rooms were heavily soundproofed so that virtually anything could happen in them without fear of detection by one's neighbor. The main drawing room was decorated in a macho, clubby manner. The furniture was all covered in rich cordovan leather and animal heads and gun racks decorated the walls. In the corner was an oak bar where one maid was already busy mixing drinks. When we walked in, there were six guests already gathered, four women and two men. The two men were dressed in similar fashion to Mr Davies, elegant fox hunting attire; all wore the scarlet Pinks jackets of the hunt masters. Two of the women were dressed in elegant silk evening gowns but exposing far more leg and cleavage than what might be encountered at your typical family wedding party. Another was dressed in a black leather catsuit with matching over-the-knee boots. Only her jewelry and the sharp, shiny spurs on her boots broke the pattern. The last woman was the tallest and most muscular of the group but she was the only one dressed in submissive mode. She was dressed in a schoolgirl's uniform: pleated skirt, matching jumper and knee socks. Without any introduction, I was led past this group and into the kitchen. Andr?, the chef was in the midst of preparing a seven- course dinner to be served in exactly one hour. But, the hors d'oeuvres were ready to go and I could see that Andr? was furious that "the maid" wasn't already serving them to the guests. I wanted to explain that this wasn't my fault and in fact I was a Man not a Maid but, realizing the futility of it all, I merely straightened out the seams in my stockings and went to serve the guests. I must say I was taken aback by the scene of debauchery I encountered when I reached the guests. There in the drawing room the males were all seated in the plush leather chairs. The two well-dressed women, whom I had noted earlier, were now kneeling between the legs of the men with their faces in the men's laps. The woman in the leather catsuit was locked in a passionate embrace with the "school girl", whose skirt was up and panties down, revealing the most un-girlish hard on jutting out of the cat-woman's gloved hand. With their tongues lost in each other's mouth, the "school girl" was noisily gasping with pleasure. Mr Davies was locked in deep embrace of a blonde woman who must have arrived late. She appeared to be dressed in a black leather mini skirt, but I couldn't be sure if it were a short skirt or merely the fact that Mr Davies' groping hands had lifted it up. Nevertheless, judging by the way her booted legs were kicking and squirming, she was imposing no real objection to the black man's boorish behavior. Miss Morgan and Ms vonStiefel were in the corner, playfully taunting the barmaid, a real bimbo named Suzie, who was trying to get the white wines ready for serving. Her unconvincing protests only encouraged the two leather-clad bitches. Oh, how I pitied the poor bimbo for having to deal with these two sadists. Undoubtedly they would cause her to spill some wine and it would be she who would be blamed and chastised - not them. Oh, the unfairness of it all. "Hors d'oeuvres, anyone!" I dutifully announced as the women somewhat sheepishly extracted themselves from their duties to grab a few of the offerings, for their male companions. The blonde extracted herself from, Mr Davis arms and straightening out her skirt (yes it was a mini) she turned to face me. It was Deborah! "Oh my," she giggled, "don't you look cute!" "Deb..., I mean Miss Ford, how could y ," I started to blurt before I realized just how inappropriate it would be to insult my boss in his own house! "I er...mean W-ould you like an hors d'oeuvre?" "No!" she giggled as she took two or three shrimp, "I have to watch my figure, but I'll take a few for Mr Davies." With that she re-planted herself onto his lap and dangled the shrimp over his eager mouth like a Roman concubine might have done with a bunch of grapes. As I walked by them I felt my skirt lift and then a sharp pang to my ass cheek. Looking back my eyes met Mr Davies, his bright white teeth grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. "Thank you, Linzi. Everything is delicious!" he sneered licking his lips lasciviously as he gestured toward my wife, "Beautifully delicious!" Inwardly, I was fuming at the tactless behavior, but what was I to do? Stoop to his level? No, I was above him and his ilk. I would not respond to his gauche behavior by demeaning myself. So I simply smiled back at him and calmly replied, "let me know when you need more, Sir." The boorish creature reached under my skirt and squeezed my chastity belt. "You can be sure I will," he sneered tauntingly. The other guests were watching the scene develop and soon the men and the one leather-clad woman were all joining in the abuse of my tender backside, pinching my sore buttocks as if I were some sort of floozie. Despite their mocking laughter, I maintained both my dignity and composure, and went about my assigned task until all of the shrimps had been devoured and retreated to the kitchen for more. Dinner was an elegant seven-course affair, each one presented in an artistic fashion, enticing to the eye, to the nose and presumably to the taste. I couldn't say this with any certainty since the kitchen staff (just the barmaid and myself) were not allowed to partake of this feast, although the boiled rice and soy sauce which comprised our dinner was very adequate. After the dessert was served I noticed that Deb..., I mean Miss Ford excused herself from the table and headed for the Ladies Room. Given the break in my duties I took a chance and headed out the back door of the kitchen and headed for the same destination. I got there just as she was entering and slipped in behind her. Shushing her as I closed the door and locked it behind us. "Linzi, what is the meaning of this?" she scowled, her expression displaying her extreme annoyance. "Please, Miss Ford, I just need a moment," I pleaded, somewhat annoyed at myself for taking such a deferential approach. After all, she was my wife and although the title of "Miss Ford" might be appropriate since technically we were in Mr Davies home so perhaps technically at work, I shouldn't have had to apologize for talking to my wife, should I? "What is it? Tell me quickly, I have to pee!" she spat angrily. "We have to get out of here, and I don't care if we both lose our jobs over it," I whispered hoarsely, realizing that someone might be listening. "Are you crazy? Give up my career at Davies Ltd? Don't you realize how much I've done to advance my career here? And you! You've made a very nice start at building your own career here as well. I think Mr Davies rather likes you, and he's told me that he will make a personal effort to see that you are given every chance to succeed in your profession." "Deborah, are you so blinded by ambition that you can't see what's happening?" I screamed forgetting for a moment my manners. "Look at me! I'm your husband and here I am dressed as a sissy maid. Is that normal?" "Actually, I do think you look very , very cute," she giggled, as she ogled me up and down, dropping her panties down to her ankles. "Maybe more men should try a little make-up." "You're missing the point!" I blared, "I'm dressed as a maid, while you make out with that arrogant black bastard before my very eyes. Don't you see what's going on?" "Of course I see what's happening," she sneered, sitting down on the toilet to pee, "you've been living rent free in my house for two years afraid to go out and get a real job. And, now that I find one for you you're too lazy to do the work and want to get out of it!" "Listen, I think he's going to try to force you to have sex with him just like he...," How could I tell my wife what happened? How could I admit that I had been forced to have oral sex with a man? Still, it had to be done! So, half-sobbing I disclosed what had happened. "You don't know, but tonight, he forced me to perform oral sex on him." "Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Davies is a fag?" she laughed. "Or are you trying to tell me something about yourself? Maybe you wanted it! Did you lead him on?" I could not believe what I was hearing. My wife actually accusing me of being an accomplice to my own defilement. Yes, blame the victim! "You don't understand," I blubbered. "Yeah, well if you didn't want it, why did you come back here with him? You could have run away couldn't you?" "But that would have meant leaving you with him," I started trying to put a heroic spin on my failure to stand up to him. "And besides," I added, returning to reality, "he is so big and powerful...you wouldn't believe the size of his , er...I mean him," I blubbered trying not to think of 'Mr Ebony'. Deborah smiled at the comment almost as if she knew what I meant. "Oh yes he is so, so...er, well...big! in a muscular way of course," she giggled as if she were sexually attracted to his muscular frame. "Please. This is no joke. He raped me! And if you're not careful you're next!" Looking up to me, as her stream of urine hissed into the water, she shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe that Mr Davies is the ogre that you have been describing. He's always been so gentle, er , I mean such a gentleman with me," she confided reassuringly, "But if he did what you said, we must do something. What do you suggest?" I started to unveil my plan. "Well I've been thinking that although he is powerful, he seems to er..., well...tire out after, er...only one orgasm." I blurted out unsure of how to put it. "He did?" Deborah gasped incr