"Have you got a hard-on, Mr Loverman?" I asked.

He nodded, shamefacedly.

"Let me see it."

Awkwardly, he swung his legs forward and, sitting back, banging his head on the underside of the desk, he unzipped his trousers. He tried to pull his cock from his underpants, but the constraints of his trousers and the narrow confines of the desk made it impossible.

"Pull the trousers down, for God's sake," I ordered. Men, I thought, incapable of the simplest task without explicit direction. He did so, dragging them down below his knees, and then pulled down his knickers as well, revealing his squat, hard prick. "Lie back, lean against the back of the desk," I told him. He slid backwards, so that his face was obscured by dark shadows. It must have been quite uncomfortable for him, but if hewasn't about to complain why should I worry? He had his legs together, his heels against his backside and knees in the air, and I pushed my foot between them; as he parted them at my insistence, I twisted my ankle and pressed my sole against his inner thigh, forcing his legs wide apart. He now lay spreadeagled beneath me.

Pulling my chair closer, I straightened my leg and pushed my foot forward until it touched his thigh. I pressed the sole of my shoe against him, digging the heel into his soft flesh, and he moaned.

"You like that, do you, Mr Loverman?" He moaned again, in assent. "How about this?" I pressed harder, my heel forming a huge indentation in his thigh. He moaned again. "And this?" I slid my foot higher, until it touched his balls, and then flattened my sole against them. He groaned as I applied firm pressure, flattening them beneath me. I dug my heel down so that it pressed hard against his arse, slipping into the crevice between his bum cheeks, and ground my sole against his balls, twisting as though stubbing out a cigarette. I began to raise my foot up and down, lifting up and dropping back down in a constant, resolute motion, all the while rubbing hard against his bollocks and arse, applying excruciating pressure. I tried to touch his cock with the tip of my toe, but couldn't do it without releasing my heel from its fleshy refuge, so I swung my other foot into action.

I laid the sole flat against his cock and began to rub it up and down its length, digging my heel into his ball sac from the side to add an extra frisson of painful pleasure. Graham was moaning constantly by now, and his thigh muscles were so tensed I felt sure he would get cramp before long.

"Well, Mr Loverman, is that painful?" I asked.

"Yes," he moaned breathlessly.

"Oh dear. Would you like me to stop?"

"No."

"No? But it's painful. Surely you'd like me to stop hurting your little dick and balls, Mr Loverman?" Saying that, I pulled both feet clear from him and watched delightedly as the disappointment registed on his partially obscured face.

"No, please," he cried, "please don't stop."

"You want me to do it?"

"Yes I do, please. Please do it."

Mr Loverman was mine. This was the final proof that I had him. I knew at that moment that the only limit to my enjoyment of Mr Loverman was my imagination; whatever I proposed for him he would accept, I now realised. My pussy was so wet I felt sure it must have leaked through my panties and skirt into my chair; my stomach was tingling with an excitement I had never felt before, an excitement which mingled sexual anticipation and the thrill of power; my nipples were hard and prominent, jutting out through my bra and blouse, and I slipped my fingers beneath my clothing to stroke my left breast. Graham was stretched beneath me, helpless, awaiting my command, ready to do whatever I instructed. His cock swayed tremulously, hard and red, ready for my touch. Whatever I wanted, I thought, whatever I wanted.

"Okay, Mr Loverman. Pull those bum cheeks apart for me." Without any hesitation, he did as I had ordered, gripping his bum with both hands and easing the cheeks apart. I replaced my foot in its previous position, grinding my sole down hard against his balls and twisting. With his bum cheeks parted, my heel dug deep, deeper than before, until it finally met some resistance. I thrust it up and down for a moment, until Graham's squeak of pain alerted me to the fact that I had the heel directly against his arsehole. That was where I wanted it to be. I pressed, hard.

That was enough. With a shriek so loud that I feared it would be heard outside, Graham exploded. I continued to force my sole down on his tortured bollocks and thrust my heel hard against his arse, while four, five, six spurts of jism erupted from his cock. He was grunting and moaning with each spurt, his hands tightly clenched and a startled, overcome look crossed his face. I continued to press and dig, twist and push, until his movements subsided and his climax drew to an end.

"Oh dear, Mr Loverman," I said. You've made a mess again. Get yourself cleaned up, quickly, I've got work to do. But before you go, can you just clean this shoe again for me. It seems to have got dirty again, somehow."