02

If you are not 18, do not read. This is for adults only.

The following is a work of fiction. It contains scenes of domination, bondage, somewhat reluctant submission, and nudity. All characters are fictitious. F-dom/F, semi conc

Copyright April 23, 2000

Office Detention: Part I

Camille rushed into the office on Monday morning. Her heart pounding as she raced up the flights of stairs, her breathing ragged as she tried to walk calmly down the hallway to her desk. She noticed her boss's door was opened. She was in earlier that usual. Camille reached her desk. Her heart skipped a beat when she found that the disk she had mistakenly left there on Friday was not there. Staring at her desk as if to make the disk appear, she was unaware that her boss, Mrs. Huntington, had approached her.

"You're in a little early my dear." The cool words made Camille spin around. Her eyes widened as she saw the disk lying in her boss's hand. Her mouth became dry as Mrs. Huntington motioned her into her office. She knew she was going to get fired. She had only been on the job for a few months, and had not developed any kind of relationship. Camille had been foolish to bring the disk to work, but she had wanted to get the story done for her boyfriend, and thought it would be safe to bring it back and forth on disk. It was only when she was searching for it on Saturday that she realized she had misplaced it. It contained bondage story fantasies.

Mrs. Huntington shut and locked the door, and pushed Camille to the middle of the room. She smiled wickedly as she saw Camille's distress. She inserted the disk into her computer, actually humming as she did so. She wasn't going to bring that stuff up on the screen, right there, when she knew Camille was already embarrassed? As the first story appear, Camille blurted out "I'm sorry, I'll pack my things and be on my way."

"Actually, it is very good writing. Your fantasies are very real. Have you lived any out?"

"No." She answered too quickly.

Mrs. Huntington smiled. "I think you answered that too quickly. I believe you are experienced with some bondage." She rounded her desk and approached Camille, who was trying to edge to the door. Something made her not rush out. Mrs. Huntington came right up to her, circling her, eyeing her up and down, the cool green eyes unnerved her. "And to think, you put on such a 'holier than thou' attitude. Are you a submissive?" The question sprung on her so quickly that Camille was taken off guard.

"Yes--I mean no." She finished weakly. "May I please just leave?" This humiliation was horrible. Mrs. Huntington smiled again. Camille could see that her boss enjoyed this.

“There is no need for you to leave. I have a proposition for you."

Thunder raged in Camille's ears. She tried to clear her head. Mrs. Huntington picked up a wooden ruler. Camille caught her breath at the round form of her buttocks bending over the desk. Her skirt rode up, and up, and up. She had very shapely legs; firm short legs, trim, small ankles, a nicely rounded ass, trim waist.

“If you agree to be my personal servant for a month, I will let this matter go." The ruler tapped the palm of Mrs. Huntington's hand, as if it had a mind of its own. She circled Camille again, her skirt rustling, her small breasts rising is rapid movements. Camille could see erect nipples through the silk fabric. What kind of bra does she wear? Panties? Nylons? No. She shook her head to clear it. "You will be at my beck and call the entire time. You will wear only skirts. I won't tolerate any pantyhose. You must wear garters and hose, no underwear, no bra, have your pussy shaved bare, or be punished." She smacked her hand. Hard. Camille jumped, as if she herself had been hit, and began to speak.

"Quiet. This is not blackmail. I think you will enjoy it. You must want something on this order, or you wouldn't still be standing here." A long, slender forefinger reached under Camille's chin, pushing her head back. "I'll bet you are wet." The words were velvet.

"Yes." Camille answered softly. This unexpected turn of events stunned her into silence. She felt betrayed by the wetness and warm tingling between her legs. She was not a lesbian, so why was she aroused at feeling helpless?

"If, after one month, you are unhappy, you will be free to go, with a good reference from me. I'll put it in writing, if you wish. I'll give you 5 minutes to think about it, but you must decide before you leave this office."

Camille stood, feeling as though she were swallowed up in one of her own fantasies. How hard would it be, to be a servant for a month? Surely she could handle that. It might even be kind of fun. She continued to stand awkwardly in the middle of Mrs. Huntington's office. Mrs. H. began to busy herself with some work, began to print something, jotted down notes. Camille watched wordlessly, and Mrs. H. began to print out her stories, then copy the disk, and then send them in an e-mail attachment somewhere. How old was she? The way her hair was pulled back made her appear older. She must be in her late 30's. Was she married? Camille didn't know. She seemed reasonable enough, even seemed as though she had some kind of experience in this bondage area. Camille was deep in thought and arousal.

"Time's up. Well?" She arched her eyebrow and tapped her desk with the ruler. "Well?" She asked again, continuing to tap with the ruler.

Camille was frozen by the movement, but managed a weak "Yes."

Mrs. H. sighed, stood, approached her, and tapped the ruler in the palm of her hand. She wore little makeup, and smelled heavenly. Camille could see her palm beginning to turn red. "Yes, what?" She snapped.

"Y-y-es, I'll be your servant for a month." She answered with more confidence than she felt. She had no idea what she was getting into. She could sense the office beginning to come to life outside the closed door. It was a world away.

"Very well. Sign this. It's our contract for 30 days. Remove your coat. Remove your clothes. We may as well get started right now."

Remove her clothes . . . hit home as she signed her name. "Remove my clothes?" She asked incredulously. "Now? Are you nuts--?"

The ruler silenced her as Camille felt it across her ass. "Yes. You are mine to do with as I please for the next 30 days." Camille felt a shiver creep up her spine as the full impact of what she had agreed to began to sink in. She swallowed hard. Her cheeks began to burn with shame.

"I'm waiting." Crack!! The ruler hit her again. Camille fumbled with her clothing until she was down to her nylons, underwear and bra. She paused. "Keep going. The longer this takes, the more questions will be aroused by those people arriving for work." She felt tears beginning to form and she slid off her nylons. Her breathing was barely audible as she unhooked her bra. Her shoulders slouched as she lowered her underwear.

Mrs. H. caught her breath as Camille stood cowering before her. She must be a C Cup, and her nipples were already hard. She enjoyed watching her squirm, the arms not sure where to go, or what to cover up. Approaching Camille, she circled around her, tracing a line here and there on the white skin, which had goose bumps, as Camille shivered, and tried to cover those delicious tits. Camille jumped as her boss began to pull her arms behind her. A sharp smack with the ruler settled her down.

Mrs. H. ignored her distress as she forced her arms back. "This is the way you should stand before me, hands joined in back. Now, every morning you will be here at 7.00 a.m., and bring me my morning coffee when I arrive. You will shut my office door and lock it. On your knees, you will bring me my coffee. When you have permission to, you will remove your clothing," Mrs. H. began to circle Camille, pushing the ruler between her legs to separate them, letting the smooth cool metal edge slide gently up her slit. Camille let out a moan. "You will present yourself to me." Her hands pushed Camille's shoulders back. "You will hold your hands behind your back during morning inspection. Your pussy will be shaved clean. If this is not done, or you fail to wear the appropriate undergarments, you will be punished. If you don’t have garters and hose, then buy them." Camille began to shiver as she began to feel trapped. Trapped by her own desire, and shamed by that desire. She wanted this. Her breathing became labored as her boss tweaked each nipple. "These tender nipples," she whispered into Camille's ear, "will become used to a variety of clamps." She pulled hard at each nipple.

"ooh. Ahh." were the only responses Camille could make. She was enslaved. Maybe she was a lesbian. How would she explain that to her boyfriend? She had known him, too, only for a short while. Would he understand if he found out? To read it in story was one thing, but to experience it?

From the pile of wrinkled clothing, Mrs. H. picked up the nylons and underwear. Throwing them in the direction of the door, she instructed, “You may toss these into your trash can, and you had better do it, because I will check. Now get on your knees. Cup your tits, pinch your nipples, and offer them to me. Stick out your tongue. You have made me very horny. I need to see what your tongue is capable of.” Camille was a beauty. Short brown hair, round but not heavy figure. Her bone structure was fascinatingly large, with broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist and then to lush hips. Good muscle tone, very little fat. She relished the girl's submission, as the girl followed orders. Mrs. H. went to her desk, lifted her skirt, and sat in her chair. “Crawl to me, you little slut.”

Keeping the humiliating position, Camille began crawling to her Mistress, her tongue out, and breasts cupped. She began to tweak her own nipples. She was keenly aware of the tingling and wetness between her legs. She had never licked a woman before. When she reached Mrs. H., she was instructed to use her teeth to pull her underwear down. To hurry Camille along, Mrs. H. would swat her ass with the ruler. By the time Mrs. H’s panties were around her ankles, Camille’s ass was turning red. “Well done, my office pet. Now lick me.”

Camille obeyed. Mrs. H tasted wonderful, she had to admit. Although keeping her balance was somewhat difficult, she never thought to remove her hands from her breasts. Camille actually began massaging her tits, and squeezing her nipples. Mrs. H. would send the ruler crashing down on her ass, which only seemed to make her hornier. Camille wanted desperately to masturbate. “Spread your knees apart. That’s it. Now arch your back. You are a good pussy licker. Perhaps that should be your name? Yes, the office pussy licker. Oooh, yeah, that’s the spot, stick your tongue in my pussy.” Camille could feel her Mistress’s pussy begin to pulse around her tongue. She nibbled, and sucked for all she was worth. Her ass felt on fire from the ruler swats, and she moaned a little when the next blows were particularly hard. Could people in the office hear what was going on behind the door? Camille was surprised that this thought turned her on even more. Within an hour, Camille felt as though she had become a slut. Mrs. H. came with a torrent of juices. Camille lapped as much up as she could. Her face was moist from the mixture of saliva and cunt juice. When Mrs. H. was satisfied, she pushed her office pussy licker away, and said, “Not bad pussy licker, for starters. Now get dressed, and get your ass back to work, and bring me my coffee.”

Camille was completely humiliated at being treated like this. Her hands were shaking as she pulled on her wrinkled skirt and blouse. Man she needed to cum, but was afraid to ask. Grabbing her nylons and panties, Camille rushed to the office door. She hesitantly opened it, saw more office people than she liked. She took a deep breath, and made her way the short distance to her cubicle. Shakily she sank into her office chair, and threw her nylons and panties into the trash, which she moved under her desk, and immediately covered up with a pile of papers. God, she needed an orgasm. She was so wet. Her phone rang. She picked it up, and cleared her throat, “Camille speaking.”

“My office pussy licker has forgotten something.”

The coffee. “Yes, Mrs. H. I’ll bring it right away.” Camille ignored the curious stare of her office co-worker, who definitely noticed Camille’s lack of under clothing, not to mention her wrinkled skirt and blouse. There’s definitely something going on there, Sue thought. Perhaps they are lesbians. No, judging by the flustered way Camille was acting, rushing to the coffee pot, and disappearing into the boss’s office, there was more to it. The curious Sue went over to Camille’s desk, pulled out the trashcan. Nylons and panties, this will make for wonderful office gossip.

The day dragged. Delivering coffee to her Mistress had been harder than she had anticipated. Crawling on her knees, trying not to spill any coffee, was degrading enough, but worse, yet Mrs. H. had ordered, “Now, my pussy licker, crawl to the center of the room, pull your skirt up to your waist, put your forehead on the floor, spread your knees wide, and spread your pussy lips for me.” Horrified, Camille did as ordered, desperately wanting to finger her clit.

“Your pussy is very wet.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good, stay like that for a minute or two.” Camille felt frozen in time. She could hear her boss moving around the office. “Okay, now finger you clit.” Camille did so without hesitation. Mrs. H. took digital pictures of the office pussy licker. When Camille seemed close to orgasm, Mrs. H. made her stop. Mrs. H. smiled at the groan of frustration coming from her new toy. “Please, Mistress, I need to cum so badly. Please let me. Please let me.” God, it was degrading. She was talking to the carpet; her forehead and knees were getting sore from the rough carpeting.

“No, I think you haven’t learned your true status, yet. Now crawl to the door, and get out of here.” Camille followed instructions.

She straightened her skirt, and calmed herself as best she could. Walking to her desk, she knew her forehead and knees had carpet marks on them. Sue, her co-worker gave her an odd disturbing smile, as Camille sat down. Ignoring her, Camille threw herself into her work to keep her mind off things. One of the gals at lunch, noticing that Camille had no nylons offered to buy her a new pair of nylons, and gave her a very puzzled look when Camille declined. After lunch, Camille could stand the passion between her thighs no longer. She spent longer than usual in the bathroom stall, fingering herself to orgasm several times. When it was time to leave, Mrs. Huntington was nowhere to be seen. Camille left quickly, and went to the nearest mall to pick up garter and hose, and sexy undergarments.

She called her boyfriend, who was not available, and Camille had to satisfy her lust alone. Trying on and buying the sexy clothing made her horny all over again. She took a long bath, and was just getting dried off when her phone rang. Thinking it was Roger she grabbed the phone. She could use a good fuck.

“Hello.”

“Is this the office pussy licker?” Camille cringed as she recognized her boss.

“Yes – Mistress.”

“I want your e-mail address.”

“Why?”

“Listen pussy licker, would you rather I leave detailed, embarrassing messages on your answering machine? I want to send you something.”

Camille hung up the phone. This was a nightmare. She was horny – again. She went to her room, pulled out her trusty vibrator, and plunged it into her soaking cunt, and came many times before she was somewhat satiated, dreaming of a cock, or tongue, or anything…Forgetting that she should check her e-mail, she felt into a lust induced sleep.

Office Detention: Part II

The next morning, she half convinced herself that she had dreamed the day before. Surely her boss wouldn't go to all the trouble of inspecting? Her cheeks burned from the embarrassment of disrobing in front of those knowing eyes. She had felt that Mrs. Huntington could see into her very soul, knowing all her wants and desires. With proud resentment, she shoved herself into nylons. She would wear a skirt and deliver coffee on her knees, a shaved pussy wasn't too bad, but garter and hose and no underwear was too much. She left for work and was 5 minutes late. 7:05. Mrs. H. was in her office. Camille hoped she hadn't noticed the time, and quickly made some coffee, tapping her toes impatiently, as she waited for it to brew. Finally, it was done and Camille hastened to Mrs. H’s office, shutting the door and locking it, and going to her knees. It was most humiliating to crawl over to her boss, who, by now, was watching her closely. She reached for the cup, and continued to gaze at Camille. Camille almost rose, but thought better of it, since she had been late. Mrs. H. looked pissed already, and she didn't want to anger her further.

"I will have to punish you for being late. Now, get up and remove your clothing."

"You can't be serious, every morning?" She tried to stall. Mrs. H. put the coffee down. She retrieved, from under her desk, what looked like a riding crop. Camille swallowed hard. She knew she was in trouble. She smiled sweetly, as she began undoing buttons. Maybe she would go easy on her. Her clothing dropped to the floor, and her hopes with them, when she saw the scowl on Mrs. H.'s face as she took in her nylons.

"My, you are a testy one. What reason do you have for not having completed my simple instructions?" She had approached her and rubbed the crop over Camille's mound.

She immediately felt warm, as the crop teased her clit. "Ummmm. None. I just don't feel like wearing garter and hose, and was hoping I could compromise?" The crop snaked between Camille's legs and Mrs. H. grabbed the other end and pulled up. The crop plunged into Camille's cunt, and she tried to struggle free, but the crop remained buried. "Ow. O.K. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again-Ow-" Camille began to push at Mrs. H.'s hands, trying to push the crop out. Mrs. Huntington was relentless, and kept pressure on the crop between her legs, pulling her up. Camille was on tiptoe, trying to wrestle the crop from her boss, before Mrs. H. let the crop go.

"You are correct." She hissed. "It won't happen again." The crop smacked her ass. Camille yelped. "Now get out of those horrid things." Camille did so without hesitation. "At least your pussy is shaved." She said as she went to her desk drawer and got a pair of scissors. Camille was wide-eyed with interest as she watched her nylons being cut in two. She was shocked at the speed with which Mrs. H. crossed the floor and grabbed her hands and tied them tightly in front of her.

"What-what are you doing-" was all she could get out as her underwear were stuffed into her mouth and secured with part of the other half of nylon. Mrs. H. dragged her across the room to a soft chair, pushed her face down and secured her hands to the front chair legs with the ends of her very expensive nylons. Camille was shaking with fear as she felt ropes attach her ankles, and her legs spread to be tied to the chair. She muffled into her gag, but knew it was hopeless. It was humiliating to be in this position, exposed. She could feel herself become wet in her submission. Nothing happened for a while. This unnerved her. Then she felt fingers push into her cunt.

"My you are wet." Camille grunted as Mrs. H.'s fingers found her G-spot, teasing it. She nodded rigorously, and tried to move her hips. Mrs. H. laughed. The crop hit her squarely on her ass. Hard. Camille squealed, and threw her head into the air. She thought she might pee as the next hits stung her again and again. At the tenth one, she was ready to cry. Her ass was on fire. Mrs. H. removed the gag and cruelly lifted her head by the hair. "Do you understand who is in charge here?"