It was a couple of days after our return from the conference, and I knew that our weekend away had been an important turning point in our relationship. There was no going back now. Mr Loverman had clearly signalled his devotion to me, had undergone a series of ever more humiliating tests and had not flinched, nor demurred. He was mine, entirely, to do with as I wished. The feeling of power which surged through me when I realised how much, in such a short space of time, I had come to dominate another person's life, was exhilarating. Mr Loverman was my own personal property, granted to me by the man himself. It was this voluntary nature of his submission which so excited me: I had had to do nothing to enforce it, had not had to resort to any ridiculous blackmail plots, nor force myself on him physically; no, I simply told him what I expected him to do, and he did it. Every time. I rocked my leg harder and thrust another quarter of an inch of my foot into my property's mouth.

"So," I said to Pamela, enjoying the sensation of Mr Loverman's tongue rolling down my big toe, "did you manage to get in touch with those contacts I gave you from the conference?"

"Yes," she replied. "One of them blew me out, didn't want to know, but the other guy, Edward what's-his-name, he sounded quite keen. I think we can do business with him." I was absolutely sure we could do business with him and so, judging by the way he froze at the mention of his name, did Mr Loverman. Memories of that evening with Edward in my hotel bedroom, memories of our seductive meal, of the steamy sex session, and particularly of Mr Loverman attending to our post-coital needs with his obedient tongue, flooded back, filling me with warm satisfaction and eliciting a moist tingle in my pussy. Oh yes, I had no doubt that Edward would be looking to do more business with us very soon.

"Yes," I said. "I'm particularly confident about him. Graham did a good job schmoozing him." Beneath me, Mr Loverman bristled once more at the mention of his own name, and I thrust my foot forward again, sliding it even further into his mouth. "Actually I got the impression Graham might have fancied him."

"No!" cried Pamela, scandalised. "Graham isn't gay, is he?"

"Well, I don't know," I replied laconically, enjoying the outrage I could sense in Mr Loverman's body language. "I hadn't thought so, but the way he was with Edward, sitting there, looking up at him the whole time, lapping everything up, I just wondered." I paused, watching Pamela's reaction. "Why, are you interested in him, then?"

"Well, he's kinda cute, isn't he?"

"Nice arse. Bit on the lardy side though, although he does seem to be losing weight." Well, he would, I thought, stroking my left foot along his thigh and pressing it heavily against his crotch: he hadn't eaten anything but lettuce for four days. "Whenever I see his backside I can't help thinking 'that could do with a damned good spank'."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," Pamela laughed. "He's not really sexy, is he, not like you want him to roger you rigid, but he still kind of gets me going a bit."

"It's because he's such a wet blanket. Attractive but not sexy. He turns you on but you don't want to fuck him, so you want to punish him instead, give him a damned good thrashing."

"Yeah," she laughed huskily. "Although I wouldn't say no to a good shag as well, though."

"Really?" Mr Loverman was entirely tense by now; my foot was still wedged in his mouth but he was making no attempt to love it. I'd thrash him for that negligence later on, but for now I was amused by his reaction to the frank discussion of his lack of sexual magnetism. And it was becoming clear that Pamela had a bit of a thing for him, which could be very interesting. She wasn't at all attractive, seriously overweight with gargantuan thighs and pendulous breasts and arms which hung with blubber. Despite her size she still dressed in short skirts and tight blouses, topped with bleached blonde hair, cruelly emphasising her weak points and dragging attention away from her strengths, although what those were I'm not sure. Her ears, maybe.

"Well, I wouldn't say no, put it that way."

"Ask him out, then."

"No, I don't think so, she laughed defensively.

"No, really. I know for a fact he likes bigger women, he told me the other night, when he was drunk. And blondes." He told me no such thing, of course, but from the look in her eyes I could tell that my little lie had attracted Pamela's attention. "He's just a bit wet, probably never asked a woman out before. If you take the first step I bet he'd like it, I bet he'd say yes."

"I doubt it," said Pamela with the resigned air of a woman who had suffered many rejections.

"Yes," I replied decisively. "I'm convinced of it. Do it. Ask him out." I could see the idea taking hold in her mind, growing more and more attractive, and after a moment I knew that she had resolved to do it. Excellent.

We chatted on for a few more minutes before Pamela departed for a meeting with Edward. As she closed the door I ushered Mr Loverman out from his refuge and made him kneel in front of me. He sat obediently beneath me, looking up expectantly.

"Get your cock out," I ordered. "And make sure it's hard." Mr Loverman unzipped his trousers and pulled out his already stiff cock. "Play with it," I told him, and watched in delight as he instantly began to wank himself. "Guess what you're going to do?"

He looked at me nervously.

"You're going to become Pamela's new boyfriend. You're going to fuck her brains out."