Whos The Boss Ch 04

Author's Note: Although you can enjoy the story as a stand-alone, I recommend reading the earlier chapters in order to get the context of this story.

Meaningful comments are always welcome

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That night at home I received an emotional and rambling email from Adrienne expressing an interesting mixture of delight and shame, confidence and confusion, excitement and fear. She was fascinated at how aroused she became every time I began controlling her and was clearly still charged up from our movie-watching session in her office at lunch that day.

She concluded her email with a list of questions about our bizarre relationship and where things were headed in the future. Before I responded to the questions in her email, I quickly went to check her web log, and was delighted to see that she had already written about the entire consequence experience. It was clear from her entry that she was becoming acutely aware of the submissive side of her nature, and I was glad to see her eagerness to further explore this aspect of herself.

I poured myself a large glass of wine and sat down to carefully consider my reply. After sipping and thinking for a few minutes I typed the following email to her.

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>> My Little Slut,

>> I was pleased by your journal entry today. Thank you.

>> It was clear from your email that you have many questions. I will do my best to answer them. Please realize, however, that this is a journey and an adventure, so to some extent we will have to just discover things along the way - it's just not possible to chart the entire thing from beginning to end.

>> 1) What exactly is our relationship and what are your feelings toward me?

>> Ours is a rather non-traditional relationship, isn't it? I'm not surprised at the difficulty you have in classifying it simply. We aren't really lovers, we aren't exactly friends, and I wouldn't even say we are fuck-buddies. For now I think it's best if you see me as someone who is helping you to find fulfillment. I care about you, Adrienne, and I care about helping you find some of the answers you have been searching for. I am strongly attracted to you sexually as well. That is how we'll leave it for now.

>> 2) Why did you want Evan to take that movie? I would think you'd be jealous of him. What do you want to happen to my relationship with him?

>> I wondered when you'd ask these questions. I had your fuck-boy make the movie precisely to show you that I am in no way jealous of him or any other lover you may choose to take. I don't need our involvement to change anything about your other relationships, including the one with your husband. What you discover about yourself as things develop may cause changes, but that will be your decision.

>> 3) Where do we go from here?

>> Forward. For as long as you choose to follow where I lead on this journey.

>> I knew that the vagueness of my answers would probably do little to resolve the confusion and uncertainty in her mind; that was intentional. She was so used to having everything clearly laid out in front of her with nothing left unanswered and plans precisely made. The ambiguities of our relationship were part of the process of learning to let go of the control that gave her security. Instead, she would have to surrender control to something yet unknown, and trust herself to follow me more deeply into this mystery.

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I called Adrienne on her cell phone Tuesday morning at a time when I figured she'd be on her way to work.

"Hello, Sir," she answered.

"Good morning, my little slut," I said in a cheery voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"No, Sir, I tossed around all night trying to figure out about us."

"Didn't you get my email then?" I asked.

"Yeah, I got it, but I still don't really know any more than I did. I want to know where this is going - I need to know," she insisted.

"No you don't. You just need to let go, Adrienne. Let go and ride with it. Just let things unfold however they will. Are you willing to just surrender control and follow me?"

"Yes, Sir. I will follow. At least for now." She sounded hesitant but resolved. I could tell she was trying to let go of control, but the need to be in charge still had a grip on her.

"Good girl," I said, somewhat condescendingly. "I know you like being my little slut. As hard as it is for you to admit that to yourself, you do, don't' you?"

She paused only briefly and said, "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir what?" I prodded.

"Yes, Sir, I like being your little slut."

"Good girl. And I like having you as my little slut. I'm going to train you to be the best little slut ever," I said emphatically.

"Train me?" She sounded indignant.

"That's right. You've shown wonderful potential, but you have a long way to go." Despite the silence on the other end of the line, I sensed the battle in her mind that was raging as she attempted to push back her prideful perfectionism. Somehow she was able to tap into her submissiveness and respond in a manner that pleased me greatly.

"Please, Sir, please teach me to be a perfect little slut for you." Her plea seemed genuine, and I believe that it was a significant turning point in her battle to yield herself to me.

I decided to start with further lessons immediately. "Pull your skirt up and let that perfect ass of yours enjoy the leather of the seat beneath you. You'll drive the rest of the way to work that way. But do not touch your pussy. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir. I understand."

I was waiting for her by the elevators as she pulled into the parking deck beneath our building. She parked her shiny black Beamer convertible in the reserved executive space near the elevators, and I smiled to myself as I watched her pull down her skirt as she got out of her car. As she approached we exchanged a casual business-like greeting, and I pushed the "down" button on the panel. She gave me a brief questioning look, and when it dawned on her what I was up to, she looked around frantically for signs of others from our office. It was still quite early, no one was nearby, and we boarded the elevator.

I pushed the "P1" button for the lowest parking level. As soon as the doors closed she started to speak, but I quickly hushed her by pressing my index finger to her lips. She got the message. The doors opened on the deserted parking level, and I took her by the elbow, leading her around behind the elevators to a small alcove out of the view of the security cameras.

I dropped my briefcase, pulled her forcefully into my arms and kissed her hard. The ass-baring ride to work under my control obviously had her stirred up, and her tongue probed furiously into my mouth. I lifted her skirt, as a reminder of the obedience she had just ceded to me on the way to work and slowly stroked her bare ass with both hands. As the passionate kissing continued, I slid one hand around in front of her and down between her legs. A single finger parted her already-wet lips and slid easily into her pussy.

After a brief finger fucking I broke off the kiss and took her briefcase from her, placing it flat on the ground in front of me. Without a word I directed her to her knees on top of it. She knew what I was after, and immediately her hands reached for my cock as it strained against the front of my pants. She deftly unzipped them and exposed my bulging manhood. She gripped me firmly with both hands, sliding them slowly up and down as she stared at my stiffness with an evil grin.

She slowly and gently kissed the head, obviously desiring to lovingly serve my cock with her mouth. Her tongue licked its way slowly from my balls to the tip. But that morning was not the time for such leisurely pleasure. No, it was a time for me to teach her to just make her mouth available for my carnal use and nothing more. It was time she learned to be used as my personal cum bucket.

I quickly ripped my tie off and bound her hands behind her back. I then moved back into position in front of her, placed my hands at the back of her head, and forced my cock deeply into her waiting mouth, not stopping until my balls rested firmly against her chin. The amazing little cock-sucking slut hungrily took every inch. Holding her head firmly in my hands I proceeded to fuck her mouth with abandon. Several times she looked up at me with a ravenous look in her eyes, as if she were pleading for more, for harder, for deeper. Without words I knew she was begging for me to fill her mouth. And I gladly obliged, pushing my cock head against the back of her open throat and squirting load after load of my warm white juice directly into her belly.

Once she had nearly drained my cock, I pulled out of her mouth and allowed the last drops of my cream to drip onto her left cheek. I took my cock firmly in hand, and while staring deeply into her grateful eyes, managed a final drop for her right cheek. Without a word I quickly zipped up, retrieved my tie, and walked around to the elevator, leaving her kneeling there full of cum.

As I waited for the elevator I pressed a small envelope into the edge of the elevator button faceplate, where I was certain Adrienne would see it. In large bold print on the front were the letters "M.L.S." Inside I had written a short note:

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>> MLS (My Little Slut),

>> I hope you enjoyed my use of your fantastic little slut mouth this morning. I certainly did.

>> Sir

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I affixed my tie using the elevator mirror on the way up to our floor and then walked casually to my office while trying to subdue the smile of satisfaction that wanted to creep across my face. I wondered to myself, as I took my seat at my desk, if she might still be kneeling down there stunned and dazed with my come running down her cheeks. I wondered if she would respond well to being so thoroughly objectified and used.

A few minutes later I had my answer as Adrienne appeared at my office door, smiling sweetly as if nothing had happened. She said good morning and subtly placed a note on my desk before heading to her office. I recognized it immediately as the very note I had left her, sans envelope. I was delighted to open it and see what she had scribbled in response: "I did. YLS (Your Little Slut)" followed by a smiley face with two small drops drawn on each cheek, obviously symbolizing the come I had deposited onto her face. I chuckled quietly to myself and dropped the note into my shredder, albeit a little reluctantly.

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By early afternoon Adrienne had already made a journal entry describing in detail our experience that morning. I was amazed at the intensity of her reaction. Not only did she enjoy the face pounding I gave her, she couldn't wait to see how I might next want to use her for my pleasure. She recalled how I had accurately surmised the thrill she got from public sex, given her tree fantasy. She admitted that the possibility of getting caught only added to the excitement she felt from submitting to me. Her only complaint was how extremely horny it left her. She described how she had to keep her skirt hiked up while sitting in her office in order not to leave a big wet spot on it. But she was happy to do so, because feeling her naked ass against the leather was a pleasant reminder her of the ride to work. She signed her entry HLS - I knew it meant "His Little Slut."

I couldn't help smiling proudly at the amazing progress we were already making in our relationship after only a week. I went to work immediately thinking of how to "use her" next, and decided it was time to call on Nikki and our secret project again. I dashed off a coded email to Adrienne, with a copy to Nikki.

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>> Adrienne,

>> Concerning the new MLS Project we met about yesterday, I think we are ready to take the next step. If you agree that we should explore this further, I will set up a face-to-face meeting as soon as it can be arranged. I think a dinner meeting tonight is viable for the head of MLS. Does that work for you?

>> Jason

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In my haste I had forgotten that I'd never let Adrienne in on the "secret project" rouse, but she was quick on the uptake and forwarded my email to Nikki, copying me, with instructions to make dinner reservation for three at Crawford's at 8:00. I smiled at my smart little slut.

On my way to the restaurant that night, I called Adrienne to make sure her ass was naked against her car seat. She was ahead of me and assured me that she was going to ride this way in her car whenever her outfit would allow for it.

"So who will be the third in our dinner party tonight?" I asked, referring to her instructions to Nikki.

"You, your boss, and your little slut," she said boldly.

"I hope my boss and my little slut will get along." I joked. "I really want this MLS project to work out.

"Oh, I'm quite sure they'll end up being the best of friends," she replied.

I laughed out loud. Then I told her how proud of her I was for her joyous submission to the face fucking that morning, her subsequent journal entry, and for being such a wonderful little slut.

"I read in your journal how you couldn't wait to see how I might use you next. Is that still true?" I asked.

"Oh, yes Sir, very true. I so-o-o want to be used by you."

"Well, I certainly think I can accommodate that request before the night is through."

"Thank you Sir," she answered in a clearly submissive voice.

We arrived at the restaurant within minutes of one another and after informing the hostess that the third in our party had cancelled, we were seated at our table. After placing our dinner orders, I decided to give her a chance to clarify anything she wanted from yesterday's email exchange while we each sipped on a pleasant glass of wine.

"I want so desperately to sort all this out, but none of it makes sense to my rational mind," she began. She was tapping her finely manicured, deep red fingernails on the side of her wine goblet as she spoke.

"You need to not be so uptight about figuring everything out. You don't need to be so.... so... controlling."

"But I want to understand this incredible grip you have on me?" she blurted, looking into my eyes for the first time since we had been seated.

I locked my eyes on hers and painted the picture as clearly as I could. "It's really pretty simple. I give you what you crave. And the more I give you the more you crave it. There's nothing more to it than that. It's base. It's animalistic. It's instinct. And even though you haven't made the mental shift to completely accept it, it's a perfectly natural craving."

She gave me a sad and confused look. "No, you don't get what I'm saying. I'm starting to accept that there is this whole submissive side of me. I agree with you about that being a need somewhere inside me that's been unfulfilled. That's all fine. I guess what I'm asking is..." She went back to tapping her glass. "is, well, is there more to us than sex and submission?"

I reached across the table and stopped her tapping with my hand by placing it over hers. "You want to know if you are more than just My Little Slut?"

"Yes, Sir, I do." At that moment I knew she was falling for me in a way that I never intended.

"Today you are My Little Slut. Tomorrow, we'll see."

I know she wanted more from me, and I could read the disappointment in her face. She withdrew her hand from beneath mine and sat back in her chair, no longer looking into my eyes.

I knew I needed to do damage control. "Look into my eyes, Adrienne," I instructed. She slowly lifted her eyes to mine. "This is all very new territory for you. There are deep emotions involved, on both sides, and we just need to go one step at a time. Can you live with that?"

It began to dawn on her that she was not going to get the kind of emotional commitment she was looking for. I think she was embarrassed at the way she had made herself so vulnerable to me, and suddenly her demeanor became markedly more casual.

"Sure. That's fine. I'm always up for a little fun-loving sex fling. Hell, I've already got one going with Evan, why not one more with you?" She forced a phony smile, but the hurt was still evident in her eyes. "After all, I am just a little slut."

"Correction," I said half jokingly, "You are My Little Slut. And a damn good one too."

Thankfully, the conversation then shifted away from our relationship as we each recanted our personal histories for the other. I found out that she was 35 years old, and that ten years ago she met and married her husband within the span of three months. They never had kids, as she first wanted to get her career established, then didn't want to give it up, and then wasn't sure she actually wanted children - at least not with her husband. She assured me that they were passionately in love when they first married and had sex constantly the first two years of their marriage. Gradually his interest in sex dropped off to near zero, but her sex drive only increased. In frustration, after years of begging her husband to pay more attention to her sexual needs, five years ago she began taking lovers to keep herself satisfied. She admitted to having more than one lover at a time in a few instances. She denied any emotional attachment to these men, and said the longest affair lasted only six months. She had been with Evan, the 22-year-old son of a lawyer in her husband's firm, a little more than a month. I believed she was being totally honest and open with me about herself.

So I shared just as openly with her about my two short-lived attempts at marriage: how the first lasted only a year, when I was just out of college. The second lasted four years, and ended a little more than two years ago. When she asked whether D/s had played a role in either marriage or either divorce, I admitted that my interest in it had only developed since my last divorce. She asked about the future possibilities of another marriage, and I told her that it was very much in doubt.

As desert was being served, she began to ask about my current relationships. I told her that I was not involved with anyone besides her, but that I was actively seeking to find a "compatible" woman for a full-time D/s relationship. That seemed to reignite her doubts about our own situation.

"So do you don't consider me a 'compatible' woman?" she asked, her feelings obviously hurt by the suggestion.

"That's not it at all. I simply don't see the possibility of us being full-time. You are married, you're my boss, and you have a boyfriend."

She realized the silliness of her assertion and backed down. Then she joked, "Maybe I should fire you." We had a laugh over that.

She pushed her plate of half-eaten chocolate cheesecake toward the center of the table with a sigh, and I leaned up to the table and said quietly, "I hope you saved some room for a second desert."

She looked at me with confusion at first; then my meaning dawned on her, and she smiled. "Of course, Sir. That would top off this meal perfectly."

"Good little slut," I said.

"Your car or mine?" she asked with a wink.

"Neither. Nothing so lame as a backseat romp for my little slut. I've been watching the men's room over there," I said pointing down a narrow hallway behind her, "and there is no one in it right now. I want you to go in there, go into the far stall, remove all of your clothes, and wait for me."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed before catching herself. She stammered her protest, "I mean, I know you're not kidding, because you always say what you mean. I just mean... Damn... Never mind. Oh my gawd." She looked briefly around, excused herself from the table and headed boldly into the men's room. Perhaps, due to her earlier visit to the ladies room, she already knew that the oversized stalls in the men's room of this upscale establishment were actually completely walled in little rooms, each with a full-sized louvered door. And maybe having the assurance of such "privacy" gave her confidence to readily agree to my demands. Or perhaps she really was just a brazen little slut.