by Alex M. Quinlan
"Systems, Alex speaking. May I help you?"
"I hear you've been bad, slut."
I freeze, the voice instantly recognized: Jerry, a dominant transvestite of all things, who knows I work alone on Friday nights.
"I see you've read your email." My voice is shaking as I fight it for some modicum of control.
"Oh, yes," he laughs. "You sound so upset at your predicament, too." His sarcasm is just about dripping from the phone. "Now, how long aren't you allowed to come for?"
He knows this information. I bitched it all out in the email I sent. But I can feel the game he's playing, feel it taking root in my head, my body, my flooding cunt.
"A week. And I have to tell people. Seek out people to play with, online and in real life."
"I see. And what did you do to deserve this, slut?" His voice drawls out the last word. I groan, my cheeks heating as I look around. I know full well that I'm alone in the cubicled office, but I'm trembling as I start to lose my sense of self into the submission he can so easily pull from me.
"I came, sir," I whisper, voice trembling. "I masturbated without permission, and came, without permission, when I was explicitly forbidden to do either."
"And why were you forbidden?"
"Cause My Owner had told me not to."
"Why?"
"Cause he wanted to." I shivered at that, my arousal growing as I admitted this. Jerry's voice was all wicked delight as he pushed this.
"And you let him order you like this?"
"Yes sir."
"Why?"
I gave him the answer he was looking for. "Cause I'm a slut and I need to fuck, and I come harder when someone else controls it, sir." I was shaking, my nipples hard well beyond the office air conditioning, and I couldn't stop rocking in my chair.
"And do you need to come now, slut?" He must have heard it in my voice.
"Yes," I moaned. "Please may I come, sir?" The last came out in a rush, falling from my mouth even though I knew it would be denied.
"No." Came the expected answer. "You aren't allowed." I shook with my body's reaction, feeling it trying to peak. His voice pulled my attention again. "When do you get off?" There was a hesitation, long enough for me to draw breath. "Of work." He laughed at my moan.
"10 pm, sir."
"Well, it's eight now. I'll be there at ten. Get your work done well, slut, and we'll see what you get." Click.
I hung up, dazed. The room looked different, distant. Leaving the glow of the computer screen, I went to the bathroom to try to recover. Looking in the mirror, the water I had splashed on my face dripping, I tried to come back to myself for the next two hours. Glasses on a round face, heavy, showing my weight. It didn't used to, the though strayed through. I shrugged, slicked back my dark bangs, turning it into a stretch as I took a deep breath. My tits moving in my bra stroked my nipples hard again, and I shook with the reaction. Touching myself in cleaning up after I used the toilet was a subtle kind of torture. Two hours. My t-shirt and stretch pants hid all evidence as I walked back to my desk.
- You had to go do that, didn't you. My mind argued with itself.
Yeah, well. The answering tone was sullen. I usually can control it.
Uh Huh. And now you are on full restrict till he shows up for his visit next week.
Well, true.
You love it, don't you. My return voice squirmed. Slut. And then it blushed. Well, stop talking to yourself and go back to work, ya twit. Or Jerry *won't* be mean to you. I giggled softly. Work. I needed to focus on work.
Not too surprisingly - I am a computer geek - I managed to focus on my computer and get stuff done. Not perfectly productive - my body shifted to the background need, awareness flooding through me every time I stretched my arms over my head - and flooding my cunt, too.
I actually jumped when the buzzer on the front door rang. I reflexively bounced up to answer it, looking at the clock along the way - 10:08. I moved slower as I got to the door, anticipation robbing me of coordination. I could see him grinning at me through the glass, and by the time I got there to open it I was almost fully in a submissive head-space - breathy, shaky, my gaze skittering from his. I managed a smile as I opened the door, striving for some semblance of normalcy.
"Hi." I stepped to the side so he could enter, and automatically scanned the lot past him. Only his and my cars were visible.
"Hi." He grinned back, his voice normal, without the earlier dark tones. "You're alone, I take it?"
"As far as I know." I glanced back into the darkened main office section, cubicles in ranks to the far walls. "No other cars, no one else but me works with the overhead lights off."
"Good," he said, his smile getting broader. "Are you done working?"
"More or less. I just gotta logout, I jumped up to answer the door without thinking of it." I turned to walk back to my desk.
"That's ok." He smiled and walked with me. "We're gonna stay here a bit, anyway."
I swallowed. "We are?" is what I tried to say. What came out was an inelegant squeak. I realized I was stopped, staring at him like a deer in the headlights, when he reached up and slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.
"Let's keep moving, shall we?" It was a weird walk - I was leading, but he was controlling, my feet finding my desk on autopilot as my conditioning took over at the touch. By the time we stopped near the sole flickering screen-saver my eyes were half shut, my feet half stumbling, and my attention split in two: his intent, his desire, his pleasure in my obedience, and my damned, pulsating, drooling cunt. I was gone.
He let go of my hair and nodded to my chair. "Sit." I did, finding the castered office chair by instinct in the cool furry dark grey of the room. The flickering screen colors lit the side of my face, reflecting on the inside surface of my glasses as i faced him, looking at his lean length and short hair half-lighted in turn. I couldn't see his shadowed eyes, but my memory supplied the brown as I looked up at him, waiting, watching him run his hands sensuously over his upper chest. I knew what was coming, and had no desire to stop it.
"How did it happen, slut?" His voice drawled the epithet and he started to unbutton the bottom of his business-dress shirt.
"I needed it." My voice was low, hoarse, distant.
"You always need it. Tell me the details."
"I'd been with Owner on the phone. He was teasing me, I don't know how long. Two hours, more maybe. I begged to cum and he refused me permission. Told me he liked to hear me beg."
"And that just made you need it more." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes, sir." I could feel the blush steal over my face, didn't know if he could see it. "You know that sort of obedience just makes me more aroused."
"Any sort of obedience, slut. You are a most delicious sex-toy that way."
I swallowed and went on. "Afterwards, I woke up from a dream." At his quirked eyebrow I looked down. "The usual one." He just waited, his hands stopped on the buttons. "Um. The one. Um. I'm hooded, can't see. Cock in my mouth and I can hear at least two others talking, hear them stroking themselves. I could feel the splatter on my back and ass as the one in my mouth went off. That's when I woke up."
He laughed, loudly. "Poor slut. Filled and unfulfilled. Then what?"
"I realized my hand was between my legs, on my clit. I was rubbing myself."
"And you were forbidden?"
"yeah." I stammered again. "For 48 hours from the call, I wasn't allowed to masturbate, or cum. You know I have to beg permission to cum anyway, no matter what else is going on."
"Yes. It's wonderful. And you didn't stop when you realized it?"
I blushed, looking away from the wine dark sheen exposed by the opening shirt. "I humped my hand till I exploded. I think I woke up the housemate. It only took like three more strokes. And then I went back to sleep."
He shook his head, his smile becoming a smirk. I could see his cock hard under his pants. "You deliberately disobeyed. Even though you would have gotten away with the initial touching, by virtue of being asleep at the time, you deliberately kept stroking your slutty cunt till you came - two disobediences in one." His voice clearly relished the telling of it and I squirmed, trying futilely not to hump the chair. "and so now, after confessing your sluttishness to your owner, you aren't allowed to touch yourself for pleasure, or cum, at all, for... how long?"
"Till he gets here next week." Breathless, I could barely hear myself.
His grin widened, and he started tugging the sleeves of his shirt, pulling it off. "Do you know what I'm wearing, slut?" I could guess, but only shook my head, not trusting my voice to answer. "You know how I like to dress, slut. Today I've done it as a lesson. To show you how slutty you are, that you'll serve anyone dominant enough to take you, even if they are dressed like you should be." His shirt dropped, revealing the burgundy satin camisole that had been hidden by his so-male business dress. A groan escaped me as he stroked one hand over the satin over his nipples, his other hand stroking over his cock. "Take off my pants. Now."
I leaned forward, unthinking, leaning into my clit on the edge of the chair as I tugged on his belt with my teeth. He murmured wicked encouragement that never touched my memory as I pulled at the waist-band hook, and then the zipper. More satin spilled out, encasing his hard cock. I could smell his pre-cum even though I couldn't see the wet fabric in the dark. His pants dropped to the floor, revealing stockings I knew to be silk, completely with a garter belt. The straps framed the shaft I needed to serve. I rubbed my face against it, barely hearing my voice begging to take it in my mouth, begging permission to suck, to come, to serve.
He slid his hand into my hair again, pulling my face away. I whined, a puppy deprived of a treat, and his words slowly penetrated my craving. "Worship it, slut. Worship my silk clad legs, tell me what you are and what you need."
I dropped from the chair, kneeling at his feet. I didn't even think of where his pants had gone as I ran my hands down to his ankles and over th heeled pumps I found. My face rubbed his stockinged thighs, feline marking motion, as I babbled.
I'm a slut, your slut, your sex-toy slut for now. Your tool, your jerk-off thing, extra hands to stroke you so you can feel the silk and satin of your girl-clothes against your skin. I need it, need you to use me, need to serve, to obey. I'm a cum-slut, your cum-slut, i crave your cum, beg you to cum, on me in me, I don't care just fuck me use me take me make me need it. I need the need, need to crave it, please don't let me cum just make me need."
All of this was in it, and more I don't remember. He stroked himself against me, sometimes his cock in my hair and my mouth on his balls, sometimes my hands all over his legs. I don't know how long he took while I worshipped his use of me, while I bared my submission for his taking.
Finally, he pulled me up, away, my mouth still mumbling but now only 'please please please please' coming out, I was so lost. His hand in my hair gently shook me till I was tracking again, looking up at him as I licked lips gone dry from constant motion. His mouth moved as he fucked his fist, his breath short and shallow. The satin around his cock disheveled, bunched up to one side and showing around the garter straps.
"Do you want it, slut?" His voice was a growl. "Do you need it? My cum all over you, spraying. Not even in your mouth, not anywhere you can enjoy it, just all over your clothes, messy marked fucking cum-slut, showing all how you crave it..." Between each question I moaned 'yes', till it was a constant talking on both our parts, his calling and my reply a shifting duet in power.
Suddenly his hand gripped hard on the top of my head, pulling it back to look at my face. "Wear it then, if you crave it so bad!" His hips jerked, his cock sprayed, jets of wetness invisible in the furry dark splattering against my shirt. I could feel the pressure of it landing on the cloth, unable to feel the slick thickness of his pleasure against my skin. I squirmed, shaking wildly, hovering on the edge of orgasm, whining and whimpering 'need it need it please gods please i need it yes no need need need' in a tightening spiral of words, barely keeping myself from coming, feeling the spasms trying to start.
"What do you need?" His voice, harsh from his own release, cut through me and I opened eyes I hadn't known I had closed. He leaned against my desk, satin and eyes gleaming in the shifting light of the screen-saver as he stroked the remaining drops of his come into the softening skin of his cock. "What do you need?" he repeated.
"Come." I stammered out, whimpering, shaking all over.
"You have mine, slut." His voice came down hard on the last word. All I could do was whimper, eyes locked on his, the shaking going through me in waves as I knelt before him.
"No. You are not allowed. Do. Not. Come." He finally took pity, gave the order my submission needed to break the deadlock between mind and body. I cried out, my cunt starting to spasm from the automatic arousal of obeying a difficult order, but my training held and my body pitched forward as the reaction aborted. I jerked, twitched, nearly collapsing in a writhing heap, not quite sobbing as the conflict played itself out in my body. When it finally stopped I found I was bent against his leg, where he had pulled me as my body went into overload. I clung to the silk-stroked strength.
"Did you come?" he asked, soft voiced, assured.
"No, sir." I whispered hoarsely and trembled in aftershock.
"Good girl. You've earned a reward. I got permission for this before I called you, your Owner was quite happy for someone local to push you where you craved to go."
He reached down to my shirt and scooped up some of the cum making its drooling way over the mounds of my tits. I gasped, shocked, as he stroked his slicked finger over one cheek, and then the other, and finished wiping it across my forehead, leaving a trail that burned with a cold fire as it dried.
"Marked. Slut. Mine for now, his for all. Messy cum-slut for use."
i was shaking again, speechless, rocked to the core that he had picked up on that ritual. He cocked his head, a smile playing over his face at my reaction.
"Thank you." I managed to whisper finally after I caught my breath, mental and physical both.
"You're welcome. Now, let's get out of here - late dinner, my treat." He grinned as I shook myself free of the dizziness, and clambered into the chair, turning to logout. He reached over to turn my face back to him, and looked at me intently. "By the way - you look lovely like that. Don't wash your face when we leave."
He laughed at my shuddering groan, and started putting his clothes back on.
