1
Hearing the click of Dr. Diana Artemis' heels across her office floor, Jeremy slipped from the swivel-backed chair behind his desk and, quickly smoothing his tie and shirt and adjusting his glasses, knelt beside her door just in time to be in position as it opened. He kept his eyes to the floor and watched as her black heels and stockinged legs came into view. She stood close enough so that her skirt, black and silk, brushed slightly against his cheek. He knew better than to move. He'd done that two weeks ago and could still locate the precise place on his rear where she'd swatted him. She'd only popped him only once but it had been enough to cause him to tear up, mostly from the shame at displeasing her, but the limp had lasted through the weekend.
"Eyes," she said.
As instructed, he looked up at her. She wore a sheer black blouse and glasses; her hair pulled back in the manner she used when seeing client. He was relieved to see a slight smile on her face. The sight caused blood to rush to his cheeks. He felt a single lacquered nail graze his cheek.
"Any messages?"
"No, ma'am."
"Have you filed my client reports insurance claims?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You look pleased with yourself."
The question threw him. A year ago, after his sixth appointment with her, with the exception of one affirmation of his submission, he'd been instructed to speak to her only as "Yes, No, or thank you, ma'am," elaborating only when given explicit permission. Six months ago, when she'd hired him as her secretary, she told him the same rules would be in effect. In all that time, he'd never broken her rule. But he also knew better than to say nothing.
"You've gone pale, Jeremy."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, relieved to again be on firmer ground.
"Is it because of the way I asked the question and you're afraid of breaking my speech rule?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"That was a little test, Jeremy. You did nicely."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"You're welcome. In fact, Jeremy, you've had a very good week. I got all my messages, had no cancellations and you even helped me with a client."
Jeremy flushed terribly at the memory of being called into her office for assistance with a client who had resisted her diagnosis that he was bisexual. Jeremy had entered and, when commanded, unbuckled his pants and bent over her desk. As instructed so he might be prepared for just such occasions, Jeremy kept himself fully waxed and wore women's lingerie beneath his male clothing. Before he knew it, the man had pulled his panties down, entered him and finished, confirming Dr. Artemis' diagnosis. Jeremy left without a word to clean himself up and let them continue their session, secretly hoping his performance might lead to this very moment. He had a guess as to what might happen next but didn't want to jinx it by hoping too much.
"And you remember our agreement, I'm sure. How good little boys earn their rewards."
"Yes, ma'am." The anticipation was too much. He could feel himself beginning to shake.
"And we know what one little boy desires more than anything else."
Dr. Artemis slid onto Jeremy's desk and lifted a leg to place a heel to his waiting hands.
"Go ahead, pet. You know what to do."
This was certainly true. Careful not to put a run in her stocking, Jeremy's shaking hands slid up her thighs to find a pair of black silk panties, which he carefully slid down her legs. The second they hit the floor, he felt a hand on the back of his head, pressing his face between her thighs, where the skin was smooth and soft and smelled slightly of lavender.
"Kiss her," she said. "Three times."
Jeremy kissed her labia, feeling her clit press against his lips.
"One," she said.
He kissed her again, releasing a slight moan. He hoped the vibration from the sound would feel good enough she'd let him continue. It was a trick he'd tried many times, so far without success.
"One more, pet."
Again, he kissed her, this time receiving a wet kiss in return, and it tempted him into touching his tongue to her clit. Technically, against the rules, she didn't say anything and he slid her panties back into place. Her fingers ran through his hair.
"Such a pussy-whipped little boy you are."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Beta male."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Slut."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sissy.
"Yes, ma'am."
He looked the floor and held out the flat of his hand. It was how he'd been taught to request permission to speak freely. If she touched his hand that meant he could speak, if not, he couldn't. She touched his hand.
"But only yours, ma'am."
She laughed. "Oh I know that. Trying so hard to impress me, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"There was a little catch in your throat as you said that. You know, when you first came in here, I didn't think you could be any more submissive but you've proved me wrong." She punctuated the thought by kissing the top of his head. Jeremy almost toppled over. "Say it."
"My name is Jeremy Lane. I'm a happy and proud submissive sissy boy. I belong to Dr. Diana Artemis. I am grateful for her attention. I serve Her willingly and happily. My natural place is at Her feet. I accept the responsibility of discovering what pleases Her, and do my best to fulfill Her wishes and desires. I am obedient to Her and realize She has my best interests at heart and knows better than I what I need. I know that my actions reflect upon Her, and will do my best to help others see Her in a positive way. I will never intentionally embarrass or displease Her. Above all, I am honored to serve Her. I will never cause others to think that being submissive means to be weak or a lesser person. I take pride in who and what I am and will never show myself in a negative way. She is a beautiful human being."
They had written the affirmation together, Jeremy contributing the last line, and it was his favorite part. He enjoyed saying it so much he didn't notice at first that Dr. Artemis hadn't said anything. Immediately, he ran over the lines in his head, worried he'd forgotten one. Already upset with himself, it took him a moment to realize she'd slipped her panties off again and put a heel up on his chair.
"I forget how much that turns me on. You're going to make me late for my date."
She grasped his hair with both hands and pushed his face between her legs and thrust roughly against his stiffened tongue until his face was damp with her and she'd finished, waited for him to rearrange her panties and smooth her stockings, and headed to the door.
"I'll leave you to lock up," she said. "Don't forget to feed the fish." Spinning on a heel, she smiled wickedly, "and tell Samantha I'll see her on Monday."
Jeremy nodded from where she'd left him on the floor, his glasses knocked off and under the desk somewhere and relieved the small fish bowl on the corner of his desk was undisturbed. The fish had been a little joke of a gift she'd given him at the start of his employment. It was, of course, a beta. It's name, of course, was Jeremy. Samantha was another matter.
2
Twenty minutes later, Diana slid onto a stool at La Travolta, a ridiculous John Travolta-themed restaurant in the city that she forgave for its absurd theme due to its excellent cocktails. The bartender nodded to her and brought her standard drink, a Bushmills single malt. Her date, a man she'd recently bought a house from, and who had dropped his asking price by thirty-thousand dollars when she'd told him that's what she was willing to pay, had exactly four minutes before he'd be late. With the extra time, she flipped out her phone, texted Jeremy that she wanted him to spend the weekend dressed as her sissy slut and to ride a dildo six times before Monday. She didn't need to add that he wasn't allowed to touch his cock, nor did she have to worry about whether he would. In their third session, she'd implanted a trigger that made it impossible for him to orgasm without her permission. Jeremy responded by dropping his phone, then recovered to say he would do as commanded. She laughed, sipped her drink, and checked the time. Her date was a minute late. Two by the time he sauntered up in an admittedly handsome suit that she'd sadly have to spoil.
"You're late."
"Am I? Is that a big deal?"
His expression told her that he could see it was, and that she'd read him correctly. This was going to be fun. Mean, but fun.
