Quill's Daily Routine
Quill had got in early to the office and now anxiously awaited the arrival of his boss. It was strange, but after only two weeks of her giving him that name he already thought of himself as quill, the submissive. It made him feel warm. And she was no longer just his boss, she was becoming his Mistress, Mistress Erica. It was at times difficult not to call her that in the open office.
It was hard to believe that a chance meeting in a club could have led to this. He had after all only gone along with the lads as they said it was fun, and the women looked great in the leather on the fetish nights. Erica had told him that very evening that she too had been dragged along and was not really enjoying it as they had it all wrong. When he asked how, she explained and there started his journey.
She had told him that she was a Domme and what was going on in the club was just playing, an excuse to dress up and pretend. The girls there were just kittens to be petted and stroked, while she was a cat, to be feared and respected. At that point she had got up, his look of disappointment was very clear. She told him she needed to sharpen her claws. He had laughed nervously at that. Erica then told him if he wanted to feel those claws in his flesh, he should be waiting when she returned. But she would understand if he ran and played with a kitten, it was what most boys wanted to do.
He waited. She knew he would.
Soon he had found himself alone with her in a quiet corner becoming more and more fascinated by what she told him. She knew him from work, she said, but he struggled to place her. He was flattered that she knew where he sat and the department he worked in. At no time during the evening did her eyes leave his face. They watched every movement, every change of expression, and he in turn found himself being aroused, having to shift position to hide the bulge that had begun to appear. When at the end of the evening she had asked straight out if he was a submissive, he said yes without a moment's hesitation. Later he realised he had not even thought about what he would answer, the word just leapt from his mouth. She had smiled at the answer and told him she knew he was, that they must talk again about his submission and how she could help him.
He had not slept that night. All she had said kept rushing though his mind and the one thing that came back again and again was that simple word 'yes'.
He spent as much time as possible the first two days after that weekend wandering the different floors of the building, trying to see her. He wished he had asked her name now, but that seemed so unimportant at the time. Then on the Wednesday morning he had received an internal e-mail from a girl called Alice. All it said was that he was needed in a meeting on the 20th floor at 11:00. His company had floor 15 through to 21 of the building and so he had only two levels to get there. He arrived and was greeted outside the room by this Alice, a pretty young secretary, with shoulder length blonde hair, parted on one side framed her soft round face. She gave him a strange look with her blue eyes but ushered him into an inner office. There sitting behind a large desk was the mystery woman from the club, resplendent in a crisp white blouse, open a button too many to show a cleavage that any man would gladly dive into, her dark hair pulled back from her face, revealing the strong features just as he remembered them. Before her on the desk was a name plate. It said: Erica Sharpe.
For the next hour they talked about domination and submission, he had the distinct impression that he was being tested. Again her eyes never left his face during the entire conversation and again he was becoming aroused. This happened every two or three days for the next month. Every night after one of their meetings he would have trouble sleeping as he went over what was said.
Then it happened. One Friday she asked him if he had ever considered being a submissive to a Mistress. A month earlier the answer would have been no, but now. Then she asked if he wanted her to guide him, to help him explore his submissive side, the answer was very easy, he could hardly keep the excitement out of his voice as he had said 'yes'. She explained that a trial period was required, that she had arranged for his transfer to her section and that his new desk would be on her floor. In fact he was placed so that when her door was open, she could see him and he could see her.
Then she had stood and told him to stand as well. Moving round her desk, she cupped his face in one hand and looking right into his eyes, then told him that as his cock was so hard and erect every time they met, that she was going to make him exercise some control over it. He had blushed. He thought he had hidden the fact, but no, she assured him, he had not. Then she asked how many times a day he masturbated. His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he could not answer. After a moment, she laughed and told him every man masturbates, it's just how often. After a few false starts he gave up and blushed even more.
'Very well,' she said, 'if you won't answer me, I'll tell you how many times you will masturbate each day from now on.'
She then described the daily routine he had to go through, and while he had to ask in person during the week, he had to phone at the weekend and seek her permission then as well. He was limited to just one wank per day and it would always be at the same time. That, she said, was the only piece of control that she would exercise for the moment.
It had been that first day in his new job and new section, that she had given him the submissive name of quill, and she called him that every time that they were alone. At such times he had to call her Mistress Erica which made his heart thump louder whenever he said it.
That was just over two weeks ago and this was the first time that he could not do their 5:30 meeting in her office when most if not all the rest of the staff had left. It was at these meetings that he would humbly ask for permission to masturbate. She would tell him to take out his cock and balls, then tell him to make it erect. Then Mistress Erica would make him wait, either make a phone call or to finish some work before allowing him to wank. A glass was provided and he had on her command to cum in the glass. She warned him, any spillage and his masturbation privileges would be taken away for the following day. She also explained that if he masturbated without her permission at any other time, she would know and she would cease to instruct him. In effect their relationship would be terminated.
Quill now craved those meetings and savoured the orgasm he was allowed to have each day, and began to count the hours and minutes till the next time he would, red of face, be humiliated by having to ask for her permission to wank.
But today, he had to leave work at lunchtime because he had a dental appointment and needed to explain that he would not be able to have the out of hours meeting.
Finally Erica arrived and arched her eyebrow at him as she moved confidently through the room towards her office. He was clearly nervous and wanted to speak, but it would be when she was ready. As she approached she merely pointed to his chair and flicked her finger to indicate that he should sit and wait. She could read him like a book already although she could not know what he wanted, he clearly wanted something. But he could wait till she was ready to hear what it was.
Quill sat back down and stared into her office. She did not shut the door and he watched transfixed as she removed her outdoor coat and hung it up. She then smoothed her skirt, before removing her jacket. The crisp white blouse, her office trade mark, shone as she turned and smiled right at him, her dark eyes flashed, enjoying that he was having to wait and that he was watching her. She moved to a part of the office he could not see and he leaned over to try for a better view. The minutes passed and then when Erica came back into his sight, she was carrying a cup of steaming coffee. She glanced to make sure he was still being attentive and sat down on her leather chair, placed the cup on the desk and looked directly at him. Still she waited, he was like a cat on a hot tin roof. She took the first of many sips of the hot coffee.
Finally, struggling to keep the smile from her lips, she put down the cup. Erica beckoned quill with her finger, curling and uncurling it slowly. He on the other hand was like a greyhound out of the trap.
Closing the door behind him, quill walked to the front of Erica's desk and stood with his hands behind his back. Although he was eager to speak, he knew that he must wait till he was told he might speak. Again Erica made him wait, looked him up and down, the coffee cup back in her hand and being sipped.
