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From: "Bloom" <cashingbets@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Fran Part2- Office FemDom Story F/M Oral Mild Discipline
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Date: Wed, 17 Aug 2005 05:10:02 -0400
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Fran dyed my hair to match her ex-husband's hair color. As part of
her desensitizing program she made me move in with her and took control
of my finances. Every part of my life had to have her say-so. I
understood. The sooner we completed the program, the sooner we'd be
normal together.

I looked forward to the day we could look each other in the eye and be
friends.

Fran kept things simple. We drove to work together and she did her job
and I did mine. Same as ever. Once we were home, at the end of the
workday, I tended to her by running a bath and bathing her and then
fixing dinner. When I was through serving her dinner she sat on the
sofa watching the soaps I recorded for her from daytime television. I
knelt down and put my face in her bush but didn't lick unless she
signaled me to.

Our experiment was supposed to mirror the experience she had had with
her husband, but I had things much better than she did with her Ex.
First of all she was bathed clean and smelling great when I went down
on her. Plus, where she had to keep his dirty dick in her mouth I only
needed to rest my face against her wonderful pussy between licks. It
was heaven. Sometimes she even let me just kneel there facing her while
she fingered herself when she preferred to take a break from my face. I
wasn't allowed to watch the TV but I'm not a soaps fan anyway. So
no big deal there. But she did let me lick her fingers and she even
wiped some on her tits sometimes and let me lick. I had it made.

She was good to me. She rarely hit me even though her Ex had beaten her
everyday. One time I forgot to set the VCR and she missed her soaps
that day. She was pissed. I got it pretty good. But I deserved every
punch and kick she gave me. I had no excuse for ruining her day like
that. I was almost as bad as her Ex, causing her pain like that.

I know what you're thinking, 'How could a normal everyday guy like
me allow himself to get beaten and think he had it made?'.

I loved it. I knew she cared. I knew my place in the world. That first
time she kicked me in the face she showed such a complete disregard for
my physical well-being that I nearly had a seizure. I existed totally
to bring her pleasure and she didn't play any games about letting me
know it. The information registered deeply and immediately with me. It
seared into me like a red-hot branding iron. It left no gray area, no
room for misunderstanding. It underscored my importance to her. At that
moment I was the most valuable thing in world to her. I was the only
person in the world that could help her erase the decade of pain
she'd endured and internalized through ten years in an abusive
marriage - but only as long as I got it right and did things her way.
That is exactly what I wanted. I wanted to do things right. I wanted to
do things her way. I wanted her to correct me in the most forceful way
possible so I could better learn to serve her needs and thereby make
myself even MORE valuable to her. She was helping me to better myself.
Don't you see? It was vital to our success that I prove myself worthy
of her discipline.

Outside forces seemed to conspire against our ideal arrangement.

Two weeks into our relationship Gertie, my boss, called me into her
office for a talk.

Gertie stood four feet eleven inches tall (5' 2" if you include the
bun of hair she wound up on the top of her head) and dressed like a
19th century schoolmarm. I think she was a born again. She was always
saying 'Have a blessed day' rather than the usual 'Nice day'.

"I know what's going on, Joe." Gertie said with a know-it-all
air.

"What do you mean?" I started to panic. Then I realized my private
life was none of her business. She couldn't fire me just because she
didn't approve of my lifestyle.

"Joe, technically it's none of my business but I've seen this
before, I'm no dummy, sooner or later it's going to start effecting
your job performance. But let's just forget that for now. This is off
the record. I feel personally concerned for you, Joe. I feel like the
spirit has put it on my heart to talk with you and to help you if I
can. As a friend who cares -- not as your boss."

"Listen, Gertie, that's awfully nice of you but I have no idea what
you're talking about."

"Horse Hockey." This was Gertie's idea of a cuss word. "Don't
you think I've seen the bruises? The way that you've changed your
hair color and you moved in with Fran? I even know that you're
signing your payroll checks over to her. And you don't think I KNOW?
What kind of fool do you take me for, Joe? I know exactly what's
going on here."

Well, I knew she had me dead to rights at that point. If it were anyone
else but Gertie I'd of assumed she knew the whole story. Fran
wasn't keeping it a secret. In fact she called me over to her clique
more than once to display her Bitch to the girls in her section.
Apparently they were doing some hiring because she'd done this
ceremony several times in the last few days to accommodate the fresh
faces that were out of the loop. "Here he is girls," she would say.
"He's not much to look at but he does anything I tell him to do -
ANYTHING - right, Joe?"

"Yes, Fran."  I answered, eyes down.

"Would he lick your ass if you asked him?" A girl might ask.

"Joe?" Fran would say with a knowing inflection.

"Yes." I answered, as the girls all giggled - except for the ones
that thought they were so cool, they howled outright.

The routine continued until the most ignorant of the bunch ran out of
imagination.

"Dismissed." Fran would say.

The thing is -- talk about out of the loop - Gertie had no contact
with Fran and her clique. They were in a different section entirely.
And they wouldn't mix with her at all anyway. So it was not
inconceivable to me that Gertie really didn't know what was going on.
So I played dumb. I didn't see any upside to spilling my guts to
Gertie.

"Joe." Gertie said, coming out from behind her desk. "I've been
there. I know what you're going through. I can help you." She knelt
down in front of me.

Now I was really dumbfounded. What the hell was she talking about? SHE
knew about being a Bitch? I mean somebody's, er, submissive. What the
???

"Gambling has a hold on you, don't it, Joe?" I think Gertie
equated trailer park grammar with an air of intimacy.

"No, not at all. I've never gambled in my life." I said
truthfully but sounding like a gambler in denial.

Gertie looked hurt.

"Joe, I'm reaching out to you now. I know. Why else would you
change your hair color and hide out at Fran's place? I know Fran
understands about people needing a helping hand. That's why she
agreed to handle your money isn't it? I know 'cause I approved the
change on your direct deposit form. You can't trust yourself not to
gamble it away -- right? I know I am. Like I say I've been there,
Joe. I had a big time gambling addiction. Bingo. For a while there I
was losing nearly $50 a week playing bingo. I had it bad, Joe, bad."

I was stunned. Speechless. She really was an imbecile.

"Don't deny it, Joe, please, don't treat like a fool. I never
owed anybody the kind of money that would make them come after me and
rough me up but some of my friends in the twelve step program told
about things like that. I can see you've been worked over good by a
real pro, Joe. Stop the act. Let me help you."

She started to undo my zipper.

"Here's a trick I learned in the program. Addiction is all about
urges, Joe. It helps to substitute one urge for another if you can."
She had my cock in her hand now and she massaged it as she spoke.
"The sexual urge is one of the strongest urges you can have. But part
of the hold gambling has on a person is its deviant nature. That's
why dirty, kinky, sex is the best sex to get you over your
addiction." Here, holding my erect pecker, she looked me straight in
the eye and said. "I'm the kinkiest gal in the greater tri-county
area." Then she went down on me.

    
www.literature-erotica.com

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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