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From: sfmaster <sfmaster@worldnet.att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASSTR} RP: Secretarie's Revenge BDSM F/m nc?
Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2001 15:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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	Here's a seasonal favorite - enjoy!



Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only
if you include this statement of limitation of use and
notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to
make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story
on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However,
individual readers may make single copies of the story
for their own, non-commercial use. Copyright (c) 1998
by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Attn: Readers please feel
free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear
from you! 

Secretary's Revenge
by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net 

We were sitting together in the hotel bar together on
April 22, Secretaries Day. What a waste of Corporate
time and money! I had to buy my secretary flowers, be
nice to her all week, and then take her out to lunch!
True, I could do this on my corporate expense account
so the taxpayers were paying for it. But still, here we
were, having drinks, instead of working. And time is
money, after all. 

Me? My name is Frank, and I'm a Corporate Manager. I
had to work hard, brown nose, and backstab my way all
the way to my position, and I didn't care just how many
bodies I had to dispose of on my way up to the top. It
never mattered to me just how many employees I had to
use, abuse, or take advantage of to get my way. 

And now I really resented the fact that I had to spend
an afternoon away from the office, buy her flowers and
a card, and waste the day. Not that I already hadn't
had a good week already. 

Because the only way to keep your employees working is
to keep them terrified. On a daily basis, I haul one of
my people into my office, give them a shitload of
tasks, then talk for at least an hour or more. If they
can't complete their jobs in a workday, well then they
can work past quitting time or at home. In addition, I
keep telling them that they'll get fired if they don't
perform. 

But the part I like most of all is where I involve
myself in their personal lives. Now when I was growing
up, all I concerned myself with was cars, girls, and
clothing. I didn't care how much I made, since I spent
it all. So I tell every single guy in the office to do
what I did, no matter what their interests. I just love
annoying the one guy who wants to write mystery novels,
telling him that I never read a book when I was young
and that writing is for sissies. 

So here I was, in the bar with my secretary, Ingrid.
What a piece! My regular secretary Ruth was recovering
from a car accident (her fault, since she's a woman) so
she had recommended her friend, Ingrid. 

Wow! Ingrid was 35, blonde, with huge breasts, and a
tight firm ass. She worked out, and her figure was nice
and lean, and well muscled. If there ever was a piece
of ass I'd like to have, it was her's, even though I
was married. 

"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Ingrid, putting her
drink down on the bar. 

"Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

"How nice you look." 

For the past few weeks, I'd been dropping subtle hints
about how nice she looked and how desirable she was.
God! What a piece of tail! 

"Thank you. You're pretty good looking yourself," she
answered. "Thanks," I replied, wondering just where
this was going to lead. 

"You know, ever since I started working with you, I've
had a secret." 

I merely nodded and kept quiet. 

"I've always been attracted to a good looking, strong
guy like you, who knows how to order people around." 

"That's nice," I answered, my hopes up and my dick
getting hard. 

"Still want to have lunch?" she asked. 

"Sure," I answered, taking a sip of my drink. 

"Perhaps we can do something better," she coyly
suggested, a smile on her lips. 

"What do you have in mind?" I asked. 

"Why don't you buy a bottle of something at the bar,
and get a room, and you'll find out," she answered. 

"What about lunch?" I asked. 

"The menu's changed," she said, "now you go get the
room, and I've got to get a bag from my car, and I'll
see you in the lobby." 

"Sure," I answered. 

A few minutes later, I had done as she asked, and we
were alone in a room. I had bought a bottle of Whiskey,
and some condoms and rented the room. Ingrid had gotten
a small suitcase from her car (she had insisted on
taking her own car for some reason instead of letting
me drive her) and I was eagerly waiting for what would
happen next. 

"How about a drink?" she asked. 

"Fine," I answered. 

"I'll pour," she offered. 

Ingrid took the ice bucket and put some ice into two
glasses, then opened the bottle and poured the Whiskey
straight over the ice. She handed me the glass, and to
prove just how manly I was, I drained the glass in one
gulp. 

"Pretty good," said Ingrid. 

Than the lights went out and the room started to spin. 

"Nighty night," was the last thing Ingrid said before
the lights went out. 

When I came to, I found that I was naked on the bed. I
felt the presence of a leather collar around my neck,
my hands were bound behind my back, and something was
locked to my ankles keeping me legs apart. I was laying
on my stomach, helpless! I turned my head around, to
see Ingrid sitting in a chair, reading a magazine. 

Ingrid had changed into a leather bra, skirt, and high
heels. Around her waist was a belt, from which I
glimpsed a riding crop, and other things. 

"You shouldn't drink Frank," she said, "you can't hold
it." 

"Let me go," I protested. 

"Why? You wanted to have a little hanky-panky with me
every since I started. You've got your wish, except
that we're going to have a little different fun than
the sort that you had imagined." 

"What's going on?" I asked, "why am I bound like this?" 

"Surely a big boy like you can figure that out, can't
you?" she asked. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"Like my Dominatrix outfit?" Ingrid asked as she stood
up and displayed herself. 

"Dominatrix?" I repeated. 

"Sure. For years. Pretty good at it, too. Especially
since I had a good trainer myself." 

"Let me go, damn it!" I cried. 

"Not just yet, Frank," said Ingrid, "I'm here to teach
you a lesson." 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"You really think that you're something, don't you?
When Ruth told me just what kind of boss you were, I
didn't believe her at first. But after working with you
for weeks, I've concluded that you really are a real
piece of work yourself." 

"What do you mean, let me go!" I cried. 

"You like to abuse people, you little tin god. Did you
really give Greenberg a hard time last year about
getting the Jewish holidays off? Or that kid that wants
to write mysteries a bad time too? Just what kind of
manager are you, anyway?" 

"A good one," I protested. 

"Really? Threatening to fire your people every chance
you get, interfering in their personal lives, beating
them up every chance you get? You know that all of your
employees hate your guts, and can't say I blame them.
That's why I'm here," said Ingrid. 

"To do what?" I asked. 

"Why, to teach you a lesson, silly boy," she said. 

"You abuse people too, bitch," I said. 

"Not true," she answered, "I know to stop long before
my slaves call for mercy in the power exchange we call
Dominance and Submission?, and they all have safewords
too. Pity your employees don't have a safeword before
you call them into your office for a little tongue
lashing. Why I'll bet that your people would rather
have a session with me rather than one with you. At
least I know when to stop, bigmouth." 

"Let me go, damn it!" 

"I've been called in to teach you a lesson, asshole.
Now ordinarily I don't engage in non-consensual D/s,
but in your case I'm going to make an exception. It's
time that someone show you what it means to be on the
receiving end for a change." 

"No!" I cried, as she produced a red rubber ball with
straps attached that she forced into my mouth and
buckled at the back of my neck. 

"Mmmmmmmph!" I cried with the gag in my mouth. 

"Most intelligent thing you've said all day," commented
Ingrid, "now lets get started, asshole." 

She opened the suitcase and emptied the contents on the
table. She picked up a jar and a flesh colored object
that I didn't recognize. 

"Since that lovely ass of yours is just so accessible
right now, that's where I'm going to start," said
Ingrid. 

She put on a pair of rubber gloves and opened the jar,
taking out a glob of jelly on her fingers. Then she
opened my ass cheeks and inserted her fingers into my
butt, massaging my behind, relaxing my muscles. 

"No need to worry, big boy, I'm also a trained RN. You
might say that I already have seen assholes like you
before. That's better, open that tight hole of yours,
cause I'll do this all day if I have to." 

I grunted in response, only to watch in horror as the
object was soon inserted into my behind. I winced as
the wider section was gradually eased past my anus,
then moaned when my muscles closed when it narrowed. 

"Good boy!" cried Ingrid, "your first butt plug." 

Vainly, I tried to force the thing out of my behind,
but it was firmly locked it by my muscles. No matter
what I tried to do, I couldn't dislodge it! 

"There now," said Ingrid, as she removed her surgical
gloves, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?" 

"Mmmmmph!" 

Ingrid then proceeded to begin to play with my cock,
which quickly stiffened in response. She pulled roughly
at my dick between my legs, and when I got hard, she
proceed to spank my behind several times with harsh
blows. 

"Better not cum!" she ordered, "not until your Mistress
tells you to! Or you'll get punished, slave!" 

I remained silent in my gag, fearful of what was going
to happen next. 

"That's a good boy," she said, "I think that this side
of beef isn't done just yet." 

She produced a riding crop from the table, and
displayed it for me. 

"You really are quite a horse's ass, you know. I've
been waiting to use this crop on you for some time
now." 

She then flexed the crop in her hands, showing me just
how stiff it was. 

"Do you give your employees a choice before you let
them have a tongue lashing? Or a safeword when they've
had enough? I don't think so, tough guy. Let's see how
that ass of your holds up to a few strokes of the
riding crop, hmmm?" 

Ingrid then began to massage and pull at my ass with
one of hands. Then she began to strike my ass with the
crop, each stroke slicing across the skin. 

"Mmmmmph!" I groaned. 

"Now when I do a scene, my submissive and I work out a
safeword in advance, usually mercy. And when they call
mercy, I stop. Period. But you just like to hear the
sound of your own voice, now don't you? Are you that
insecure?" 

I pulled without effect at the leather holding me,
bouncing on the bed as each stoke cut a path of fire
across my behind. 

"There now, I think that you're medium rare by now,"
said Ingrid. 

My ass was a solid mass of pain, and I felt like
screaming when she turned me over. When my ass hit the
bedcover, I felt like jumping to the ceiling. 

"Now my slaves can take a hell of a lot more punishment
than that. Except that they're experienced, and you're
just a virgin asshole, in my opinion. Now it's time to
take care of the front, hmmm?" 

If I was afraid before, I was doubly worried now. My
cock lay exposed for whatever was going to happen next.
I watched as Ingrid put on her rubber gloves again. 

"Ever see them milk a horse for sperm, stud muffin?
Well, lets see what you've got?" 

She took a small plastic bag and placed it over my
cock, then proceeded to pull and arouse me to an
erection. I have to admit that she was good, and my
cock was soon erect. In no time at all, I was climaxing
my cum into the bag. 

"Whoa, Seabiscuit, Whoa!" cried Ingrid. 

After cleaning off my dick with a paper towel, Ingrid
then delivered a few more strokes with the riding crop
onto my exposed thighs. I groaned with each stroke of
the crop. 

"My, you do shoot a good load," said Ingrid. 

She then spread the cum over my exposed nakedness with
her rubber clad fingers, tickling me into laughter if I
had not been gagged. 

"All done for today, Frank. Usually I charge a lot for
my services, but you'll be paying quite a price for
your attitude towards your employees." 

I felt a needle prick my arm, and everything went dark
after that. 

When I awoke, there was no sign of Ingrid. My
restraints were all gone, including the plug that she
had inserted into my ass. I cleaned myself up and left. 

After arriving back at the office, I learned that
Ingrid had quit, without giving any reasons, and I
relaxed. 

Two days later, photos of me in bondage arrived, and
were sent to everyone from the company president on
down. I was maneuvered into resigning, and cleaned out
my desk that afternoon. 

At my next job, I had the misfortune to have a
Vice-President that would call me into his office for a
daily chat lasting 1 or 2 hours a day. He especially
delighted in abusing me, of all people in the office.
Turns out he was a writer and wanted me to hear his
stuff. 

I wish that I had a safeword to use with this guy!

THE END

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