Every day made her more dissatisfied with her dull housewife life. Every morning saw her wake up, not at all eager, not curious about the events this day might bring her, because she knew already.
Ah yes, there were some variations. Not every day started with her husband mounting her to take advantage of his morning erection; sometimes she managed to get up before he grabbed her half awake. And frankly, when she thought of it, it happened less often over the years. Very likely he had some willing assistant at the office. Well, she could not care less.
She would make him his breakfast: a boiled egg, two toasts, two coffees and wave him off. Then she would do the household chores according to the schedule he had made with her (well, with her .. he had dictated and she had written it down), make lunch, eat lunch, do some shopping, read the books he had told her were worth reading, watch the programs he had told her were worth watching, cook their dinner, pour him a whiskey so it would be ready for him when he stepped in at 6pm sharp, eat dinner together in the silence he seemed to appreciate, fill the dishwasher, make coffee, watch the programs together that he liked, go to bed, be mounted again two times a week, sometimes three times, close her eyes , hear him snore and finally doze off.
It was not a bad life as such; his wages were good and they could afford a fair amount of luxury. There were no doubt millions of women on this world who would envy her, as material safety and security went. But, but ... she told herself every night again, before she closed her eyes and went through the uneventful proceedings of the past day ... life can't be just about safety and security, can it? And then she pressed her lips together and told herself to stop whining and just accept that yes, that is all there is.
But it turned out that it wasn't.
One afternoon she had started reading a story in a book about Indonesia in the 19th century, Max Havelaar, a story about a Japanese stonemason who was as dissatisfied with his life as she was and at the point where the Japanese emperor drove by and the stonemason wished he could be him and lo and behold, a ghost fulfilled his wish, she looked up and thought, "Oh, I wished things could be different that easily! That I just could wish to be who I want to be! Well, I know who I'd want to be!"
And before she knew it she had said it out loud and whole-heartedly, "I wished I was my husband!"
If there happened to be a helpful ghost around or not we will never really know, but there she was sitting in her husband's office, behind his desk, wearing his suit. In short, she was her husband.
It took her a while to get accustomed to her drastically changed circumstances. But one thing was certain: she quite enjoyed sitting there, going over the papers on her desk and actually understanding what they were about too and when there was a knock on her door, she looked up in eager expectation.
In came her secretary with her coffee, as pretty, flirtatious and attentive as she had always imagined her to be, but to her utter amazement she totally ignored her secretary's advances and just nodded her out again, barely looking up from her desk.
What the hell did that mean? Wasn't her husband interested at all in his cute assistant? For she was certainly worth a second look, and a third and a fourth as well. No way could she imagine it was faithfulness to his dull wife that kept him from giving his secretary the attention she so obviously deserved.
A second entry made her understand why the long legs, short skirt and ample breasts of her secretary had failed to have an effect. In came her boss. And what a boss she was, this uh ... ah yes, miss Tracy! She even knew her first name: Belle, an apt name if ever there was one. A gorgeous woman, this Belle, her freckled face adorned with a cascade of long ginger curls, all the curves in the right places, legs that just did not seem to end, all of this packed in a stern black women's suit that somehow only made her more alluring.
Now she did pay attention alright! Her member reacted in a heartbeat ... oh, what a delicious feeling it was to have one, to feel this throbbing, this tingling, this ... this hardness! Now she could completely understand her husband's urge to do something about it right away every morning ... she wanted to do something about it too, now, at once and stick this hard staff into this dazzling woman.
But there seemed to be no chance this would happen. This gorgeous boss behaved as stern, cool and arrogant as her suit indicated and she made the erection disappear rather quickly in quite a different way, by lecturing her about her shortcomings in reeling in a big fish in particular and in sales in general.
After her boss was done she felt quite tiny and as she watched those gorgeous hips and magnificent ass sway out, she muttered some whole-hearted curses under her breath. Ah, to see this every day and crave so hard -- hard! -- and never, ever have a chance to pin this sublime creature down and ravage her until she'd totally surrender to his supremacy, uh ... to her supremacy of course! What good was it to be her husband if he was, in fact, so powerless!
"I wish," she thought and that was all it took, she was her, her magnificent boss.
She was on her way to Belle's own boss and not a second was the employee she had just given a hard time in her mind. There was no room for that, because this delicious creature that she was now had her mind filled with quite something else. She could not precisely lay her finger on it, it was more like vague worries and a general feeling of apprehension, but the minute she entered her boss's office it was totally clear where they came from.
It was him, that sturdy man behind the desk, handsome as hell in his tight grey suit ... ooh, she would fall in love instantly if she was still the housewife, used to nothing exciting outside the walls of her house. But being Belle, things seemed to be different. There was attraction, absolutely, pheromones were whirling around the room like a tornado, threatening to knock her off her feet and sweep her up ... But there was also awe, reverence , even something like, well, submission was the word that came to her mind, which seemed the most appropriate for what she felt.
He had not looked up from his papers when she came in and she just stood there, wiggling nervously on her impossibly high heels, until he finally deigned to acknowledge her presence. Behind the heavy rimmed glasses his eyes were of the most inconceivable blue she had ever seen in her life and they were seizing her up coolly and at the same time they were piercing her with a flash of lightning that went right through, all the way to her toes.
"Why is it you are standing there, girl?" he asked her in a low, cool, but oh so sensual voice that made her feel wet instantly. "Haven't I trained you well enough? Were all those hours misspent on you, you little unworthy bitch?"
Immediately she sank down on her knees, crossed her arms on her back and bowed down her head.
"I am sorry, my Master," she whispered and looked up at him when he was not answering right away.
A faint smirk curled his lips and she shivered when she saw his eyebrow raised. Not a good sign ... not a good sign at all. All that moved on him was his beckoning finger and she knew what was coming. Yet she did not move until he snarled at her.
"Up with you, my little slut, up and here, right now."
She was at his side in a heartbeat, glancing at his belt anxiously ... would he think her misdemeanor serious enough for that, or would his hands do? Unceremoniously he grabbed her and bent her down on his knees, and pulled up her skirt high enough to expose her buttocks in the fancy sheer panties she was wearing today. Above her she heard him growl and she dared a swift glance up at his face. He was smiling down on her, but it was not a pleasant smile.
"Panties?" he said in a deceptively pleasant voice, "panties, little one? Have we forgotten what we said about wearing panties at work?'"
"Nn .. no," she squeaked.
