Pattys Punishment Party

"Oh, my God!" Meg Ryan uttered as she and Marisa Tomei watched in stunned disbelief while John Weston, Patricia Heaton's personal assistant for the past two years, assiduously stroked his huge cock in front of a stack of recently produced color photos of his boss, which showcased the red-headed beauty in an assortment of sexy dresses and which now lay in pell-mell fashion across the conference table. The two women, who had been sent by their friend to retrieve some extra photos to supplement her book-signing event, stood just outside the partially opened door of the conference room, captivated by the lewd sight.

"You'd better get Patty over here, fast!" Meg advised Marisa, without taking her eyes off the scene.

"She's going to flip," Marisa remarked dourly as she hurriedly rushed away.

John Weston was a tall, handsome young man of twenty-four, who had been highly recommend by one of Patricia's dearest friends as a hard-working and diligent college grad anxious to make his mark in the world. He had graduated with a master's degree in Business Administration from California State University only a few years earlier, and had proven to be of invaluable help to the often beleaguered star who sometimes had difficulty juggling her acting career and other pursuits with the demands of caring for her husband and four sons. John was an extremely charming and likeable guy. Notwithstanding his good looks, he was as unaffected and self-effacing as most Hollywood celebrities could never hope to be, and this was the quality that attracted Patricia to him most of all. Out of a sea of over two hundred potential candidates for the job, John's simple and honest charm had won the day.

For this reason, Meg had found it difficult to comprehend what she was seeing. Yet she had to admire the guy's extreme bravado. The book-signing brought hundreds of people to the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, and performing such a sexually outrageous act where the chances of being discovered were high could spell the end of his employment with his beloved star, not to mention arrest and incarceration. Having known John for the past two years made her realize that his cordial, deferential attitude was nothing more than a brilliant cover; a shield from behind which he could act out his lustful fascination for the beautiful star with impunity. It was a sobering realization.

Meg adjusted her skin-tight black dress and felt an unexpected twinge of desire as she watched John tug away on his enormous appendage, completely unaware that he was being observed. His long, wavy brown hair fell down in front of his face as he looked down at his busy hand and then at the array of enticing pictures before him. It was fortunate for him that this particular area of the room had been cordoned off by the hotel staff, allowing Patricia and her friends some modicum of privacy in between dealing with the incessant crowds that never seemed to relent in their pursuit of accosting their revered celebrity. She had to admit to herself that whatever moral rectitude she might feel regarding John's untoward action, she also felt extremely turned on at the sight of a handsome man masturbating and completely out of control. And the fact that he was jerking off to Patty's image made his actions even more lascivious. What she couldn't understand was why John had failed to lock the door. Unless he subconsciously wanted to be discovered, this oversight was not in keeping with his usual pragmatic nature.

From the corner of her eye she saw Marisa quickly approaching with a remonstrating Patty close behind. Meg raised her finger to her lips in a gesture of silence.

"Keep it down, will you?" she said.

"What the hell is going on here?" Patricia asked as she tried to get a glimpse beyond the door. "I've got tons of people waiting for the damn photos. What's the..."

For a moment the seductive beauty stood open-mouthed, frozen in her tracks.

"Jesus Christ!" she swore. "Is that John in there?"

"Of course it's John," Meg replied.

"But he's...he's..."

"Masturbating," Meg said flatly.

Patricia continued to look at the ridiculous but erotic sight and hardly knew what to do. "I don't believe this!" she said, unable to contain both her disgust and amusement. "I'm totally shocked."

"So am I," Meg said, her obvious enjoyment of the scene belying her admission.

"You're getting off on this aren't you, Meg?" Marisa chuckled, equally absorbed by the ribald actions of the oblivious young man.

"Come on, Marisa," Meg replied. "You have to admit that this is something you don't see every day."

"I'm surrounded by perverts!" said Patty, annoyed, her eyes glued to John's penis. "What are we going to do?"

"I think we should just let him do his thing," Meg answered.

"You mean...while we watch?"

"Why not? I mean, you have an absolutely gorgeous man with an absolutely gorgeous—and huge—cock ready to explode, and you're telling me you don't want to see this?"

"But he shouldn't be doing it!" Patricia replied. "It's not like we're in the dungeon with our subs you know? And don't you think that maybe we're crazy watching him do it?"

"I personally love a good cum shot," Marisa chuckled.

"As do I," Meg confessed. "And so do you Patty. Admit it. You enjoy watching your subs shoot their spunk and you and David love watching those Japanese adult films because of the big loads those guys produce. You always said that."

Patty had to admit that this was true. She and her husband were big fans of tekoki movies and she had never hid this fact from her friends. "Okay. Okay. I enjoy watching those films. But this is something entirely different. We're in public for heaven's sake. And that's John in there—my friend and personal assistant."

"That's why we should just let him finish," Meg insisted. "Then he can clean up his mess and no one will be the wiser."

"What do you think, Marisa?" Patty asked.

"I agree. You don't want a scandal on your hands do you?"

"Of course she doesn't," Meg replied. "And besides, it looks like he's getting ready to shoot his cock snot any second now."

"Shoot it where?" Patty asked.

"All over your pictures," Meg giggled.

Patty's former disenchantment suddenly reasserted itself. "My pictures?" she squealed. "You mean those are my brand new photos he's jerking off to?"

"Will you please keep your voice down!" Meg rasped. "He'll hear you!"

"I don't give a shit!" Patty replied angrily. "Do you know how much money I spent on that photo session? It took four hours with Mario Testino to get me looking that good. And I'm not going to have those photos ruined by some jerk off jerking off all over them!"

With that pronouncement Patricia strode into the room to the horror of both John and her amazed friends.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" the disgruntled star shouted as she approached the startled young man.

John, taken completely by surprise, was struck mute by both Patricia's sudden intervention and the powerful orgasm that was now imminent and beyond the point of no return. Instead, it was his nether mouth that expostulated for him, and it did so in an astoundingly robust expulsion of creamy white spunk that flew across the room and splashed into the wall ten feet away. Meg and Marisa, who had quickly followed their angry friend into the room, stared in astonishment as a good portion of John's ejaculate found its way onto Patty's precious photos.

"You're ruining my pictures you son of a bitch!" Patricia exclaimed, as another long and stringy rope of hot sperm sailed high up into the air in front of her and her shocked friends.

John was too overcome with lust to respond in any coherent fashion. His hand moved mechanically over the slick, ten-inch terrain of his penis, unable to stop its purposeful journey from base to tip; unwilling to stop now that he finally had the undivided attention of the woman he had long desired. The presence of Meg and Marisa provided an unexpected bonus, one for which he was grateful as the three women watched him shoot off rope after rope of his thick, creamy seed in all directions, most of it finding its way onto the conference table.

The young man felt both irrepressible lust and trepidation as he continued to masturbate himself. Having the fifty-four-year-old, five-feet, two-inch Irishwoman, dressed in a sexy red dress with matching pumps, observe the mess he was making, and with her standing only a few feet away, was more than he could have ever hoped for. At first he thought she was going to strike him or maybe even call the police, but she did neither. The fact that she simply stood next to him along with her two amused friends drove him to greater heights of lustful abandon. There was no doubt that she, Meg, and Marisa were enjoying the show he was putting on for them. And more than anything, John loved pleasing women. What Patricia would do to him afterwards was something he could not yet contemplate.

"Look at what you've done, John!" Patty cried, as the final few spurts of semen struck the tops of her photos, leaving the bulk of them soiled and useless.

"Oh, don't be too hard on the poor boy," Meg laughed. "Consider it a loving tribute."

Marisa examined the top of the table and shook her head. "Wow! What a fucking load!"

There was sperm everywhere. The opposite wall was dripping with it, as well as several chairs that had gotten in the way. But the bulk of John's sticky deposit now remained glued to the wonderful color photographs of the alluring Ms. Heaton—a testament to heroine worship carried to the utmost degree.

"I'm sorry, Patricia," John said, his breath coming in short gasps. "I don't know what to say."

"Well I do," she replied, seething with anger. "You sir, are fired! Get your things and get the hell out of my sight before I call the police!"

She looked down at the photos searching for any that might have escaped the onslaught and found only two that were salvageable. "Two photos! Two photos out of almost two hundred! And I've got all those people out there waiting for autographs!"

"I'm really sorry," John apologized again, this time more ardently. "I'll pay for whatever damage I've caused."

Patty looked up at him and then at his now flaccid cock still dripping with sperm. The look of a wounded puppy dog with his soulful blue eyes was incompatible with the sight of his exposed genitals, causing the frown to disappear on her face only to be replaced by a broad grin followed by hearty, uncontrollable laughter.

"You sick fuck!" she cried. "I really should kill you!"

Her laughter was contagious. Within moments both Meg and Marisa were laughing along with her.

"He loves you, Patty!" Meg squealed. "What else could it be?"

"I don't care how much he loves me," Patricia replied, as she continued to laugh at her predicament. "He's still fired. Do you hear me, John? You're out of a job!"

John hung his head down in shame as the full realization of what he had done came home to him.

"Yes, miss," he said forlornly. "Whatever you say."

Marisa picked up one of the sullied photos and watched with bemusement as a trail of ejaculate found its way toward the edge of the paper and rolled off onto the table top. "I can't believe how much spunk there is. Look at it all."

"Well he's going to clean up every slimy, disgusting bit of it!" Patty said. She turned to John. "You have a half hour to get this place looking presentable again. And I want you to put all the ruined photos in a bag and leave them for me."

"Yes miss," John replied feebly.

"And for Christ's sake, get yourself cleaned up!"

"Yes miss," he said again. "Are you going to report me to the cops?"

"No, John. And the only reason I'm not going to prosecute you is because it would hurt Bea too much. But I am going to tell her about this. Of that you can be sure."

After the book-signing event had ended, and a few hours later when all three women were enjoying dinner together at a local organic restaurant, Patty thanked her friends for helping her through her latest crisis.

"I appreciate your not telling anyone about this except the girls in our network," she said to them. "If David and the kids knew about it I think they'd hunt John down and kill him."

"Don't worry," Marisa said. "Our lips are sealed."

"But what about Bea?" Meg asked Patty. "You told John that you were going to tell her all about it."

"Bea's one of us. I can trust her to keep her mouth shut. But she needs to know about this because I can't have her going around recommending a guy who can't control his dick."

"He's probably one of those chronic masturbators," Marisa reflected. "You know...the kind who's perpetually horny and will get off whenever and however he can."

"Yeah, but on my god-damn pictures? Come on!"

"Well, anyway, it's too bad you had to let him go. He was a great assistant."

"Yes, he was," Patty conceded. "He was the best I ever had. And I can't tell you how disappointed I am in him. To pull off such a stunt like that was sheer lunacy. Can you image if the press got wind of it? I'd be the laughing stock of Hollywood."

Meg sipped her drink slowly, seemingly preoccupied.

"I have an idea," the blonde beauty said. "Is Bea still a practicing dominatrix?"

"The last I heard she had her husband eating out of a dog dish if that's what you mean," Patty replied with amusement.

"Well what if you don't fire John but maybe punish him instead?"

"Punish him?"

"Yeah, punish him. You say he's the best personal assistant you ever had, right?"

"Right."

"Well, what if we put the boy on a course of rehabilitation? Bea is good at training guys like John. She has an experienced hand, if you know what I mean."

"That's a great idea!" Marisa said. "Why get rid of him? Other than the fact that he's a pervert, he's done a great job for you, Patty. And you always liked him."

Patricia considered the proposal for a few moments and seemed to approve of the idea.

"If Bea is willing to whip him into shape," she said, "then I'll give him a second chance. But only if she is willing."

"I think she will be," Marisa said with a smile. "You know how much she loves dominating younger men."

************

When John got a call from Patty a few days later telling him that his future employment with her was contingent upon a period of training in social etiquette with Bea Arthur, he was both elated and nervous. He had heard Patty tell tales of the tall, stern woman; a woman who had once been a "Golden Girl" but who had nonetheless always possessed the heart of a powerful dominatrix. He had found it hard to believe that she, who had always been a close personal friend of his mother, could really be a true sadist at heart. Despite his doubts, he would either comply with Patty's demands or he would be out of work, and the latter proposition did not appeal to him in the least. And so, having made formal arrangements through Patty to meet with his mother's best friend, he duly reported to Bea's house the following week curious as to what form this training in social etiquette would take.

Bea lived in a lavish old house on Woodrow Wilson Drive in Hollywood, and John had visited there with his mother frequently when he was a kid. He hadn't been to the house in a few years and was pleasantly surprised when he was solemnly escorted into the parlor by a cute young woman who told him to wait there until Bea arrived. As it was, it was a good twenty minutes before the matron appeared, dressed casually in a blue blazer and pants, and with her was a girl whom John recognized as Eden Sher, the 20-year-old brown-haired actress from the TV show, "The Middle". She was dressed in a plain white tee shirt and a pair of tight khaki shorts that hugged her buttocks beautifully.

"So good to see you, John," Bea said warmly, extending her hand to him which he took quickly and shook vigorously.

"You look wonderful, Bea," he said deferentially, bowing slightly as he did so.

Bea smiled. "I must say Patricia has an eye for beauty and it seems talent too. I heard about your escapade at the Sheraton Hotel last week young man. What the fuck was going through your mind?"

"I guess nothing," he replied with a shrug.

"No, because you were thinking with your other head—the one between your legs."

This comment drew a loud giggle from Eden.

"John, this is Eden Sher. You know, the girl who stars in the TV show 'The Middle'. Eden, this is John—the dickhead."

This was said in such a perfunctory way that both John and Eden couldn't stop themselves from laughing.

"I suppose I did act like a dickhead," John admitted as he shook the young girl's hand.

"That's why you're here today—so that we can cure you of your dick-headed-ness."

"We?" John inquired.

"Yes, we," Bea replied. "Eden is undergoing some training of her own so she'll be observing and sometimes participating in your rehabilitation."

"Don't worry, John," Eden said, still laughing. "I'll try to go easy on you."

John looked at Bea inquisitively, but she merely offered him a wan smile. "Let's all go out on the patio and get started."

John dutifully followed Bea and Eden outside and to his surprise he saw Meg sitting by the pool wearing a pale yellow sundress. Sitting next to her were several other women—all famous actresses—drinking and laughing gaily. To Meg's right sat Julia Roberts, looking as radiantly beautiful as ever in a one-piece, black bathing suit. Stretched out lazily on a chaise lounge next to her was Christina Ricci, attired in a pastel-blue bikini, her pert, suntanned body glistening with suntan lotion. And sitting to Christina's right was none other than Raquel Welch who, at 71 years of age, had lost none of her legendary sex appeal. She wore a pair of cut-off jeans and a black halter top, revealing her ample cleavage. She smiled seductively at John as he approached, observing him intently before pausing to wrap her lips around a large straw that protruded from her wine cooler.

"Well, well, well," Meg commented as her eyes surveyed the young man. "You certainly look good in those jeans John, I must say."

"Hi Meg," John replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable after what she had seen him do at the Sheraton.

Meg continued to stare at him with a decidedly coy expression that hinted of familiarity, but she said nothing further.

Bea then introduced John to Julia, Christina, and Raquel in turn, and all three of them seemed to possess the same air of familiarity that Meg had displayed toward him. It was something in their eyes; a shared knowledge that only they were privy to, and it made him feel most uncomfortable.

"You may as well know, John," Bea began. "They know about you."

John's heart fluttered for a moment when he heard those words. He knew there was something strange about the way these women were looking at him; as if he were already naked, both figuratively and literally, with every tiny crack in his psychological armor exposed and vulnerable. In light of this, even the esteemed presence of these Hollywood goddesses did nothing to assuage his guilt and shame for his prior actions.

"They know?" he asked, despairingly. "How do they know? Who told them?"

"Patricia told them of course," Bea replied, as if there could be no other explanation. "We're all in this together, John—me, Eden, Meg, all of us. I guess the simplest way to explain it is that we are part of a Hollywood clique composed of actresses, writers, musicians, and others who have an interest in dominating men. And sometimes, when those men misbehave, we have to take matters into our own hands. That's why you're here today—because you fucked up."

"Is this part of the social etiquette training that Patty was talking about?"

"And so it is," Bea replied with a sardonic grin. "See? You understand already. Smart boy!"