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From: cashingbets@hotmail.com (Joe)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2004 16:47:56 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (RV)"Sue" an Office FemDom Story -F/M
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Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 15:10:02 -0500
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Sue muttered 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 was better than that.

Sue had personal problems or maybe she didn't like guys. I know she'd
screw any guy that would hop in the sack with her but I don't think
she really liked them. She was just a horny wench. That's why she
hated me. I certainly wasn't going to fuck her. Just the thought of it
made me retch.

Sue haunted the local bars every night in her effort to get laid. When
closing time rolled around any drunk that was horny enough, and hadn't
already hooked up with someone, usually gave her a tumble. I doubt
that she'd had a sober cock inside her in the last ten years.
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 senior 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.

I felt sorry for Sue. In her younger days she was quite a looker. The
reason I know is because, in place of the pictures of family and loved
ones 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 understood my point of view and gave me credit
for taking the high road. They knew about Sue. They knew I was right.
Sue was just so pathetic.

I was mistaken. They were weak. They let Sue sway their thinking. 

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

"What?" I'd ask. 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. I was always `mistaken' it
seems. I was `hearing things', they told me.

Sue became more popular. I, on the other hand, was now openly mocked.

The women would say to one another, "What did you call me?" and laugh.
I knew they were imitating 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 in the bud right there but I understood that 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, "Fucking cunt-sop...I'll bet the
little creep's never been laid. Ass licker. ...picture of a goldfish!
..what a sissy-bitch!"

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 I could get them all fired. All I
had to do was snap my fingers.

I'd had enough of being Mr. Niceguy. 

I went to my see our boss. 

"Damn, Clyde, you are a Bitch." My Boss said. "You're so damn prissy.
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--! 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. I was useless.
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'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. 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.

"Now I've got something else for you to clean, Fishboy."

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. The
gigantic weight of her contempt came down with a massive Tha-WhUMP!
and mashed itself into me. The utter finality marked 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 my mind. Out of my
body. Sue cleansed my senses from the inside out. Nobody liked me.
Nobody wanted me. No one respected me. I was a lie.

Sue set me straight. 

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

I kissed the cellulite of her cottage cheese asscheeks as they drooped
off her chair and begged for forgiveness.

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

And I did. I stuck my face in her sloppy cunt and nearly drowned. It
was exhilarating. It would be a just comeuppance to suffocate in the
swill of her cesspool after all the grief I put her through. She
deserved to have that last triumph over me.

"You're not getting off that easy, FuckFace." She said as she pulled
me out by my hair. She made me catch my breathe and then she stuck my
face back in her, grinding it around, "Use that fucking tongue of
yours, slut! You sure as hell gave it enough exercise dogging me
everyday for the last ten years, asshole."

Like a confessed penitent who feels relief in taking his punishment, I
reveled in the squalor of her service. It was sweet justice indeed.

Sue still kept her late schedule, she still needed cock, but without
me nagging her she began to get to work on time. It seems a good rim
job first thing in the morning worked wonders as a hangover cure. Sue
found it very refreshing. I didn't mind her beer farts - really - but
it put her in a good humor to think so. So I'd gag and act beaten down
and beg "Please don't fart in my face. Please. I'm doing the best that
I can." It gave her good opportunity to slap me around which
brightened her disposition considerably. It was all in a day's service
for me. I was content.

Sue made me take courses in massage and learn to do pedicures and
manicures and learn how to apply makeup. The upshot of all this was
that Sue started getting laid earlier in the evening by a better class
of men. She started feeling better about herself and trimmed her
weight. She started going out on actual dates and eventually married a
decent guy.

She no longer despised me and I became more of a maid and a pet than a
sex slave. I became almost like a sister, actually. Her husband didn't
like having another guy around all the time so Sue dressed me up in
some of her old clothes as a compromise. It didn't take long before I
was strutting around in heels like an old pro -- only one or two ass
whippings as I recall.

My work life was much better too after I became Sue's official bitch
and slave. For one thing I was the hit of Heather's bachelorette
party. All the girls (mainly my coworkers) got to sexually abuse me in
every way they could imagine. At one point I ate Heather's mom while
Heather herself fucked me in the ass with a huge strap on. Then they
switched. It was quite sweet for me. I get emotional even thinking
about it. They'll always have that bond.

The high point of the evening for me was the respect they showed my
Domme, Sue. As she clipped the leash on my collar and began to lead me
out, everyone came up to thank her for her generous donation of my
ass. They complimented her and gave her hugs and kisses and made plans
to go out on the town. She became not only one of the girls but the
leader of their clique. It moved me.

It wasn't until I got into `The Life' that I began living.
 

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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