The story continues...
You remain on your knees in my office. You can still hear the echos of your voice saying, "Yes, Master..."
The smell of sex... of what was just done to you lingers in the air. You feel sore between your legs. Your thighs are bruised and your cunt aches from the sound fucking you just received. Your ass is still sore from the whipping you received and serves as a reminder of what will happen to you if you displease me again. As you reach back with your hand to massage your shapely ass, you feel a glob of the cum I shot all over your face drip down to your upper lip. You instinctively lick your lips and savor the treat you have found. Your action reminds you of the warm spray of cum still on your face. I told you to clean yourself up and not wanting to disobey me you begin to do just that.
You bring your delicate hands up to your face and begin to wipe off the residual semen that is there. You gather it from your forehead, your chin, your cheeks and from under your eyes. When you are certain that you have collected it all in your hands, you look down at them and let out a small gasp.
"So much," you say to yourself, "My Master, cums so much..."
"My Master..." you smile as a rush of warmth surrounds your body like a blanket on a cold winters night. You delight in the realization that you are now my property.
You rise off your knees. Your movement causes the butt plug still stuck in ass to twist and turn a bit. You tremble slightly. God, it feels so fantastic. The sensation is incredible, so lusciously wicked. As this has been your first foray into the decadent world of anal pleasure, you had no idea it would feel this good. You feel so deliciously full. You blush as you begin to wonder what my rock hard cock would feel like slamming in and out of your tight anal passage.
"Maybe Master will fuck me in my ass later tonight," you smile to yourself. "Maybe," you silently muse. "Maybe, if I am lucky... if I am so very lucky." The lascivious fantasy of being savagely ass fucked causes you to get aroused again. You feel a wetness starting to flow between your legs.
For a moment you think about touching yourself, but any desire you have quickly disappears when you remember what you have in your hands. Your hands are useless for the moment... that is until you can clean them off.
You look at them, coated with my seed, my juice. You consider your options for cleaning them off. Then you stop your train of thought and smile to yourself. "Yes, that is what my Master would want," you deduce. "It is what he would expect of me. To consume my Master's essence."
So you bring your hands up to your mouth and begins to lick them clean. You slurp the cum out of your palms, you trace your tongue along your fingers before eagerly sucking them into your mouth. You do not want to waste a precious drop of my being.
It is so good. So exquisitely beautiful you think. My Master would be so proud of me. When you are finished, when there is simply no more of my cum, you look at your hands. You find that you are oddly sad... strangely disappointed. It was not enough. You find that you want more. You want more of my cum. Your newly discovered appetite has not been satiated.
You ponder going into my private bathroom and dropping to your knees and begging to sucking me dry. But in an instant, you stop yourself. "What is happening to me," you wonder. "Why am I behaving this way. What is wrong me?" Then it dawns on you. You are changing... undergoing a metamorphosis. You are becoming that which you never thought possible... a greedy, ravenous, cum loving slut. Yes, that is it and you wish that I was here with you right now. That I would order you to your knees and command you to suck my cock and then make you beg swallow my cum.
But then a remembrance of your old life flashes before eyes. You see yourself as the model of decorum. You see yourself in your crisp tailored clothes. Hair pulled back, sitting behind your desk.
Then you feel the leash, that is still attached to your collar, dangle between your breasts and rubbing up against your stomach. The coldest of the chain links makes you shiver. You reach up and unhook it from the collar. You gather up the leash in your hands and look down at it. You reach up and feel the collar that is still around your neck. No, this is not you. You do not act this way. You are not a wanton slut and a cum whore. You are a good girl. You are not made to suck cock and you are certainly not forced to beg for cum. "No," you say to yourself. "I am no man's cum slut."
And yet, even as you stand there and try and convince yourself, you are certain, as surely as day follows night, that upon my command you will immediately and without hesitation obey my orders without question. Your body is no longer your possession. You are mine. Your pussy, your mouth and your ass belong to me. I am your Master and you know that you will perform any act however humiliating. And you will love it... and you know that I will love you for it.
It is reinforced when you look at the desk to your right. The desk were you were taken in an act of primitive lust. You stare at the desk as you place the leash on it. The images and sensations of your exploitation are almost palpable. You start to playback the scene in your head. My forcibly bending you over the desk, my roughly spreading your legs apart and barbarically slamming my cock in and out of your pussy.
Your visions start to become so real and begin to grow in such intensity that you start to become wet again. You reach up and feel the collar again. Yes, you say to yourself, this is where this belongs. Your legs then start to become weak and fearing that you will topple over you reach out and grab onto the desk. The warmth of the wood is a secure and welcome feel to your hands.
As you do, you stare down at the clock that sits on my desk. It reads ten minutes to one. You then realize that you do not have much time. The rest of the office staff will be returning from lunch. You have only a few minutes to get dressed and make yourself presented to the outside world.
You remove the collar and scramble to replace it and leash in the cabinet and to gather your clothes together. You slide your black lace panties up your legs and then slip into your matching bra. You step into your skirt and pull on your blouse. Your heels are next as you scurry out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. You stop only to retrieve your pulse from your desk. All the while concentrating on the butt plug stuck in your ass. You are mindful of it and do not want it to slip out.
Once inside the bathroom to do a quick once over of your appearance. Your countenance is a bit disconcerting. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is rather disheveled. If one was to walk in on you in such a state of bliss, they would certainly wonder as to its cause.
But thankfully, you are spared any explanation as you fix your hair and reapply your make-up. When you are finished you smile at yourself in the mirror. You have returned your outward appearance to that of your former self. No one will be the wiser, even though you know that your inner self has forever been irrevocably altered.
You return to your desk. The rest of the day passes without incident, but not without a heighten charge of carnal intensity. For you have trouble focusing on your work as even the tiniest movement in your chair causes the butt plug to shift. The overwhelming pressure and fullest you feel causes you to remain almost constantly wet to the point that you are certain that your wetness is leaving a stain on your clothes and seeping out onto your chair.
Your frenzied state nearly reaches critical mass when at one point you have to show a new client into my office and as you enter you feel an atmosphere of sexual tension in the room. It is tangible. You can feel it crawl along your skin like an inch you are unable to scratch. You want nothing more than for me to dismiss the client and order you to your knees. But I do not. I regard you in a formal, professional manner. And that does nothing but ratchet up the provocative aura already present the room. The severe tightening you feel in the pit of your stomach makes you just want to scream.
You remain calm though and with tremendous effort say, "Will there be anything else..." but you are not sure how to finish the sentence. You are in the presence on another person and want to be discreet.
"Sir," I say looking at you, knowing full well that the butt plug is still firmly lodged in your ass. "Sir, is the word I believe you are looking for."
"Yes Sir, I'm sorry. Will there be anything else, Sir?"
"No thank, Miss Jones, that will be all for now."
Very well, Sir," you smile secretly to me and exit the room.
Then at the end of the day, after everyone has left, I call you into my office. Once you have enter, I order you to lock the door and stand before me as a sit on the couch. You do so eagerly and seconds later present yourself to me.
I regard you with a rather cool detachment and say, "Do you still have the butt plug inside you?"
"Yes, Sir," you reply with your eyes cast down.
Yes, Master. When we are alone in this office or anywhere else, you will always address me as Master. When someone is in this office with us, you will address me as Sir. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Now strip and show me that the butt plug is still in your ass," I say. "But this time leave your heels on." With that strip off your clothes.
"Kneel," I say. "And turn your ass toward me."
"Yes, Master."
You turn around and kneel and then I give the command "Worship." In an instant you spread your legs, cross your hands behind your back and place your head to the floor. And so when you bend over, you display the butt plug in all its glory.
"Very good, my pet," I say with a sly smile and reach out and play with the nasty toy in your ass. As I twist and pull on it slightly I hear a gentle moan escape your lips. I then slide my hand down and stroke the soft folds of your pussy. God, you are so fucking wet. I find your clit and roll it around between my fingers. You moan again, only this time much louder and more guttural.
"Does my slut like that?"
"Yes, Master," you cry out.
"Would my slave like to cum again?"
"Oh God, yes... yes, Master! Please, oh God please let me cum. I will do anything you ask!! JUST PLEASE GOD, LET ME CUM!!"
"Yes, I know you will," I say calmly. And with that I remove my hand and order you to rise up and face me, but to remain on your knees.
"Yes, Master," you reply and follow my commands.
Once you are facing me I ask you, "Is it your desire to serve me completely? Is it your desire to become my pleasure slave?"
