Worplace Discipline

Author's Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

Remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty. Only Princess Lilly appears as herself. But she truly has no concept of shame.

*****

A Busy Day

Story #2:

Lunch Break

Introduction:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

I get all of my toys through networking. It's almost always either one of the women in our circle who has a toy she doesn't want and offers to point it at another who is interested. Or sometimes one of my toys tells someone, who tells someone, and so on until someone asks my toy to introduce someone to me. Rarely it's someone I don't play with, but who knows what I'm into, who asks me to meet someone.

Workplace Discipline

The toy is named Janet. She's a 32-year-old married woman who belongs to a Dom named Dmitri. I think I've met him once, but he's very good friends with my friend Nikolai. Dmitri is older, somewhere around 50 - I think, or so he looks. Nikolai, however, is the one who asked me to "help Dmitri out" and see this toy. Dmitri told me that Janet has some rather prim values and modesty, which she enjoys being forced past, and thus he wanted a very young Domme to "tease" her.

He believes that my youth, I just turned 20, will be "difficult" for Janet. As in "difficult" for her to submit herself to someone a generation younger, someone who should, in her values, be of a lower status than she is. On top of that, Janet is rather homophobic. So far Dmitri has only very seldomly teased her with a female, and never one she had to submit herself to. Janet cringed and utterly hated even being looked at by a woman. Then, when he allowed her to, she climaxes hard and satisfyingly.

Janet doesn't need to work. Her husband is a surgeon and makes plenty of money to support them, and their two young kids. But she does work, part-time, while her kids are in school. She works at an eyeglass store, mostly selling frames. It's not a great job, and she certainly has the background for better, but part-time with school-only hours, she's not going to get much better.

Dmitri text me this morning, telling me that Janet was a very bad girl last night. I didn't get all the details, but I got enough of them. She say Dmitri a mere two days ago. He felt she'd been flaunting herself in front of her husband, encouraging him to use "his pussy" - the pussy between her legs which belongs to her Master. As punishment, he told her that she was not allowed to let her husband see her less than fully dressed until she returned to him. No matter what. Janet hated that punishment. And apparently misbehaved last night by accidentally-on-purpose, allowing her husband to see her breasts. They've always been a favorite of hers to tease him with. He loves seeing them.

Dmitri didn't tell her anything except that she would have to be punished for her misbehavior. She reluctantly accepted that. He told her to go to work and she would be told what her punishment is later. But since she misbehaved while already in trouble, it would be a harsh punishment for her. She accepted that just as reluctantly, and I'm sure secretly-eagerly.

Then he texts me and asked if I would care to administer her punishment for him. He's confident that she'll absolutely hate being punished by such a younger woman. And the more she hates things, the hotter they get her. Her punishment was left to my discretion as were all the details of its administration. It amounts to "do whatever I want to this woman," with only the caveat that he'd like her to call him immediately after suffering her punishment.

I got the impression that Dmitri is rather busy. I know he lives, at least part-time, somewhere near Pensacola. That's where Nikolai lives and they get together often. I don't know how many toys he has who lives in Mobile, it might be just Janet, but I'd bet he has more than one in Baldwin County, the county between Mobile and Pensacola. I have a number of toys there as well. Nor do I know who his other dominant friends are, but if Nikolai's friends are any clue, he doesn't have any close to my age. I wonder, to myself, if he might be looking to ask for more favors in the future. A lot of subs really like being loaned out to other Dommes, and especially Dommes who are very different from their owners.

I have three classes today. One from 8:00-10:00, a second from 10:00-11:30, and the final one from 1:00-2:30. It's the life of a college student. Classes. Even though only the first professor bothers to take attendance, I always show up for every class. I'm a nursing student, although I might switch to medical school once I get my BSN. I could afford it, and the more I think about life, the more I think I'd rather be the one calling the shots instead of giving them. I like to call the shots.

My second class gets out just a few minutes early, but most of them do. As soon as it's over, I head straight to my car and drive out to Airport road where Janet works. Luckily it's not too far of a drive from USA's campus. And all the good restaurants are there, except for the ones right by the campus, that is. The line of traffic tells me I'm far from the only one heading out to Airport Road for lunch.

I pull up, and after idling for a minute or two, manage to score a spot right in front of the store where Janet works. I love stores in strip malls. I love those giant glass windows that let me see everything inside. Like now, I can see Janet as she shows a pair of frames to some elderly man. Since she hasn't a clue who I am, I just relax and watch her for a few minutes.

I wait, maybe five minutes. Then I see her take the customer to the register. I wait another minute until I see the man handing over his credit card. Then I go into the store and step up behind him as if I'm getting in line. In under a minute he's gone, his order placed.

I step up to the counter. Thankfully Janet is the only one at the counter, but it looks like that's the usual around here. There are only two other people working and both are with customers. She politely asks if she can help me. I smirk. I can't help myself. I'm already picturing the shock I'm about to see on her face, and that excites me!

"You are the naughty bitch Janet who flaunted your tits like some shameless gutter whore on a street corner. Your Master is too busy to deal with you, so I will be punishing you like the skank you are." I say it firmly but lower my voice enough that I can be sure no one but Janet will hear me.

The instant I start speaking, I see Janet's eyes nervously darting around, scanning the room over and over again, watching carefully to ensure that no one else knows what's going on. I see a very slight quivering sweep over her body. She stares at me with wide eyes.

"I'll just assume there's a little Mistress' room back there somewhere. Follow me, and behave your naughty butt, skank." I don't wait for an answer, I just turn and start walking through the store a little slowly.

Janet hesitates, but after half a second she starts following me. A half-second later I see her hands casually slip up behind her back where they belong. I walk through the showroom, down a hall, past a couple of exam rooms, and finally find the last two doors. A tiny break room on the left and a unisex restroom on the right. I push the restroom door open and point Janet inside. She hesitates again at the door, her eyes very nervously checking to make sure no one is watching her, the darts inside. I follow and lock the door behind us.

I put my hand to Janet's chest and hold it there as I firmly push her backward until she's standing against the wall, her back snug against it, across from the toilet. Okay, it's not the idea punishment room, but it does have certain advantages to it. I keep my hand there, pinning her firmly in place for a second.

"Please, Miss... I'm at work!" Janet starts to say.

She knows better. I slap her face hard, knocking her head sideways and searing a bring, but light, handprint onto her cheek. I don't raise my voice. I sternly tell her "shut up, skank! I didn't give you permission to speak."

Janet quivers a little harder. She shuts up, too. She stands there eyeing me nervously, and with a very disgusted look on her face already. Not as if she's disgusted with me, but more with the thoughts in her head. The thoughts she's thinking I might make her do. Here. At work. And on the clock.

Janet's clothes are nice. Much better than Wal-Mart grade, but not exactly Armani either. I'd guess Macy's, before the only Macy's closed. Or someplace like that in Pensacola. She's wearing a pants-suit in light gray with an ivory blouse under it. I can't see if it's a short-sleeved blouse or not. She has her blazer on, and that's long-sleeved. "If I were you, skank, I wouldn't waste any time. Sooner or later your boss is going to wonder what happened to you, and come looking for you. I doubt you want the boss to find you dripping your skank all over the company restroom." I say in my best taunting, mean-girl, bully voice, but I still keep my voice quiet so it doesn't carry through the door.

"First things first. Since you like to flaunt those tits, show them to me. Strip from the waist up and show me those tits, skank."

Janet already blushes slightly. And she shirks back into the wall, so I take my hand from her chest. It's obvious she's not going to come off of it. She'd be through it if she could. Her hands come up slowly to her lapel. As they do I can see them trembling. They tremble a little harder the closer they get to the blazer. Then they fumble with it before she finally gets a grip on it and manages to slide it off her shoulders. She folds it, once and quickly. There's nowhere for her to set it except the floor. So I hold my hand out and Janet gives it to me. I reach over to the sink, see that it's dry, and set her blazer on it.

Janet reaches back up to the top button of her blouse. Her fingers fumble, unable to get a grip on the plush button. Janet blushes. Then she turns her head.

I slap her face again. "Stupid skank. You know better." I never tell her what she did wrong. And I didn't have to. As soon as I slap her before I even scold her, her head turns back forward. It forces her to look at me, which makes her see me watching her undress. She fumbles with the top button, eventually getting it open. The rest of them aren't any easier for her.

Then she has her shirt unbuttoned. It hits her a little harder then, and I see her face scrunch up into a pained grimace. I see a little tear welling up in the corner of an eye, too. She reaches for her shirt, her hands losing their grip once before she manages to open it's front and slip it off her shoulder. One hand loses its grip again as she tries to fold it. Her fold isn't very neat, but she hands it over to me anyway. I just toss it to the sink.

It bares a modest white bra. A cute bra, but not an especially sexy one. It has ¾ cups of a solid satiny fabric that mostly cover her mounds and yet leaves a slice bare at the top inside angling to show just a hint of cleavage. It has a wide strap around her sides that gradually tapers toward the clasp. It has thin straps over her shoulders. And it has a slightly wider strip of white lace that starts at the bottom of the cups, where they meet the side strap, runs up over the cup along the outside edge of it, then over the inside edge of the strap, atop her shoulder and back down to the strap. The lace is fluffy and loose.

Now Janet is shirking back hard and blushing brightly. Now she has nothing left to stall. All she has left to do is bare her breasts to me. Almost any woman would rather show her breasts to a man than a woman. Women will look upon them with a critical eye. Men will look upon them with grateful eyes. Men want them. Women have little interest in getting to another woman's breasts unless you count lesbians. Janet's homophobia just makes it even harder for her to wantonly display her breasts to a woman.

She fumbles behind her back, taking a very long time, maybe half a minute, to get the clasp undone. I know it when I see the straps fall loose to her sides. Her eyes close for an instant before she forces herself to open them again. Darn, that spares her another slap. She reaches up to the shoulder straps and flicks them off her shoulders, letting them slide down her arms. But she does it with her upper arms hugged tightly to her sides. They hold the bra up in place. Finally, she takes a squeaky and nervous deep breath and inches the bra off her mounds.

Janet holds her bra out to me. I don't reach for it. She holds it out for several seconds before she realizes what she's forgotten. She hurries to fold it up. Then, the bra crudely folded, she holds it out to me again. I take it and toss it to the pile. I never take my eyes off of her.

Janet is around 5'6" tall, and I'd guess maybe 145-150 pounds. I know she's 32. I can see that she has naturally black hair, but now it's highlighted a light blond. It's cut short, about with the bottom of her jawline, fluffed out with a little body added to it, and its very bottom is curled upward. It looks good on her, surrounding her slightly-rounded and soft-featured face. I see a pair of well-lucked and styled eyebrows, also highlighted, above a pair of brilliant green eyes and a short nose with gentle features. Then, above a soft chin, a mouth that's neither short nor wide, but is framed with a pair of plush and full medium-to-deep pink lips. She's wearing make-up, and it's a good job with quality products. Like the deep red lipstick, she has on. If there are any blemishes to her face, they're perfectly hidden.

Janet's shoulders are lean, as are her arms. Her stomach is more loose than anything. It's not quite flat, it's skin having lost too much of its youthful tautness, almost certainly during her pregnancies. I can see the tops of some light pink vertical stretch marks across her stomach before they vanish down under the waistband of her pants. It's not unattractive, but it isn't pretty either. It's definitely matronly. Motherly.

But my eyes are on her breasts. They're big, but they're also fairly loose and soft. They rise off her flat chest, lying back against her chest with a decent crease. They seem to angle outward as they lie, flowing inward along her cleavage until they meet at the very top of it. It gives her cleavage a noticeable V shape. They're topped with a pair of very wide rings of medium-pink. Each ring centers around a wide dark-pink nipple with a purplish tinge to its hue. Her nipples are wide, rising up proudly from her mounds with well-rounded tips atop the nubs. Nubs that are clearly steely hard right now.

"What size bra do those saggy things wear, skank?" I ask her. I would not call these breasts saggy. More loose from swelling with pregnancy. But also very shapely and cute. There's not a blemish on them, not even a stretch mark. I see why her husband likes to see them.