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From: cashingbets@hotmail.com (Joe)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2004 20:04:26 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} "Awakening" - an Office FemDom Story F/M
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Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2004 15:10:01 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Sue muttered at me under her breath, "Bitch." I pretended not to hear.
I was above name-calling. God knows I'd have plenty of material if I
wanted to play that game.  I wasn't about to get caught up in all the
negativity of it.

Sue had personal problems, I think, or maybe she didn't like guys. I
know she screwed as many as she could get to hop in the sack with her
but I don't think she really liked them. She was just a horny wench.
And if they weren't going to fuck her she had no use for them. That's
why she hated me. I certainly wasn't going to fuck her that's for
sure. Just the thought of it made me retch.

Closing down the local bar was the only hope Sue had of getting laid.
I doubt that she'd had a sober cock inside her in the last ten years.
When closing time rolled around any drunk that was horny enough and
hadn't hooked up already usually gave her a tumble. Sometimes Sue
accommodated more than one drunk. Like I say, she was a horny wench.

The lifestyle didn't exactly agree with keeping office hours. She
didn't miss many days but she was late all the time, dragging herself
in all bleary-eyed and puffy-faced from lack of sleep and too much
alcohol.

As the seniority employee in our office I was on her ass constantly to
be on time. That's why she called me a bitch. Well, she didn't
actually call me a bitch. No. The chickenshit slut whispered it behind
my back. If I'd known that others heard her I would have called her
out - maybe. I don't know. But anyway that's how it started.

The real shame was that I was on her side. I felt sorry for Sue. In
her younger days she was quite a looker. The reason I know is because,
in place of the family pictures that all the rest of us had on our
desks, Sue had pictures of herself when she was young. She had no
family. She was alone. All she had were memories of youth. It was sad.

 So I cut her some slack. I let her get away with saying things about
me. I assumed everyone held my view and gave me credit for taking the
high road. They knew about Sue. They knew I was right. Sue was just so
pathetic.

But I was wrong. They were weak. They let Sue sway their thinking. 

I'd walked into a room full of stifled laughter and sidelong glances
knowing I was the subject of conversation or the butt of a joke.

"What?" I'd question. All I got back was silence or "Nothing." In
reply.

More and more I heard snips of "Bitch", whiffs of "Wuss" or some other
derogatory remark I know was aimed at me but that no one would admit
to. I was always mistaken it seems. I was hearing things. But one
thing I noticed is that Sue became a lot more popular. On the other
hand I was now openly mocked.

The women would say to one another, "What did you call me?" and laugh.
I knew they were making fun of me but what could I do?

Then it happened. I told Heather she couldn't have her day off that
she'd asked for -- that she was granted, actually. Because I needed it
and I had seniority.

She pitched a fit. But we were friends, I thought, I figured she'd get
over it. After all, wasn't it more important that I take my goldfish
for his regular check up than her getting an extra day of a honeymoon?

Anyway after that I heard her say to Sue, "You'd better get your bitch
back on his leash before he gets hurt." I knew who she meant. I knew
Heather meant me. And the implied violence! Well, I know I should have
nipped it right there but I knew she was upset and, like I said, we
were friends. So...I let it go.

But that set a precedent. Now they all called me bitch. Openly. "Hey,
bitch, we need more paper clips." Or "Bitch bring me a soda back from
the cafeteria." Or even just talking amongst themselves they looked
over toward me and commented, loudly, "I'll bet the little creep's
never been laid. ...picture of a goldfish! ..what a sissy-ass.!"

That did it! That goldfish was my life. Why shouldn't I have his
picture on my desk? I couldn't let these shrews get away with making
light of it.

I could have pulled rank at any time. For all practical purposes I ran
the office. I was, essentially, an unpaid supervisor. I'd been there
much longer than any of them. I knew if I wanted to I could get them
all fired. All I had to do was snap my fingers.

I went to my see our boss. "Heads will roll!" I thought.

"Damn, Clyde, you are a Bitch." My Boss said. "My gosh, I couldn't
believe what you did to Heather. Fuck your goddam goldfish. I try to
stay out of things and just let everything sort itself out. That's my
policy. But you are getting a little whacko lately. I told Heather
just to call in sick and forget about it rather than start some big
brouhaha. But you are nuts. I mean where do you get off? Who made you
Boss? I didn't. I let you nag Sue because I figure she's been around
the block so to speak. She can take care of herself. But, frankly
Clyde, I'd have dotted your eye's if that was me. I don't care what
time she comes in as long as her work is done and turned in on time.
And it is. Better than anything you turn in. If you spent more time on
your own work and less worrying about everyone else maybe-
ahhh--forget it! Just get the hell out of my office, will you, Clyde?
You're creepin' me out."

So there it was...I felt like a crumpled piece of waste paper. I was a
bitch... and a creep. I wasn't essential - far from it. What a joke.
I'd been fooling myself. I wanted to crawl somewhere and die. Just
curl up and die. I was worthless.

I walked past Sue's open door and heard Heather's voice say, "Have
your bitch do it."

I walked in. They stopped talking and looked at me. Heather looked
sheepish, contrite. I guess she looked in my empty eyes and saw how
devastated I was and took pity. She got up and left.

Sue looked pissed. No pity there.

I closed the door.

"What the fuck do you want, asshole? This is my office and I didn't
ask you to come in, did I?" She said.

"I heard Heather say you might want your bitch to do something for
you. Well here I am. I finally woke up to reality. I'm your bitch."

Her attitude didn't change, it only intensified. She thought of how
long she'd put up with my piddly shit and all my stupidity and the
memory of it galled her. It was as if she reassessed my faults and
found me even more despicable.

"Get under the desk."

I obeyed.

"See all that stuff? All the paper scraps and debris along the
backboard? I was complaining to Heather what a half-ass job the
cleaning crew did. She suggested you clean it up. My bitch."

I picked up the bits of paper and dust balls and discarded them in a
basket that Sue offered. She waited for me to crawl out.

When I didn't she pulled her panties off and sat in her chair with one
leg on the desk the other draped over the arm. All the fat of her
thighs bulged white over the tight tops of her black stockings.

Through the small open space between her lap and the desktop I looked
up at her.

Her puffy face, greasy under heavy rouge and purple eye makeup, bore
all the years of degradation she'd endured as a lowdown barroom slut.
Her naked need for some type of closeness, some type of affection, was
buried under that makeup. I could see it now. Too late.

Her eyes narrowed as she curled her lip in a righteous sneer. There
would be no reprieve.

Her judgement was like a giant ink stamper that she wielded high above
her head and brought down hard as she hammered it into me. I felt the
weight of her contempt come down with a THUMP! And crush itself into
me. The utter finality marking me with the indelible stamp of "BITCH"
embossed in black ink on my sorry excuse for a life. Everything I
thought good and right and worthy was wrong. False. And it was being
squished out of me. Out of mind. Out of my body. Sue cleansed my
senses from the inside out. Nobody liked me. No one respected me. I
was a lie.

Until Sue set me straight. 

I was now her bitch, just like she always said, and that was the
truth.

I kissed her ass and begged for forgiveness. 

"Shut up and eat me, bitch." Was all she said. 

And I did.

www.literature-erotica.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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