Who’s the Boss?
We were surprised to receive a present from Christopher Jones’ company. We don’t buy in quantity from him because we are UK agents for several US stores. We buy bespoke dresses and suits to the US customer’s measurements and often to her own designs or for a designer employed by her. I suppose we pay for the quality of their products. Bespoke dresses in silk are not cheap.
As usual, I opened the post. I do most things for the company. I’m the secretary and the Company Secretary. The Managing Director, Edwin Miller, is also the Chief (and only) Salesman. Apart from the two of us there are only three other employees. Between them they cover the roles of Chief Accountant, Personnel Director, Despatch Manager and everything else including cleaning the office and building the website. Any of us can and will do anything. It works well because we are a close knit team.
As I opened the padded envelope Edwin walked in behind me.
“Hello, Sandra, what have we here?” he asked.
“Apparently a Valentine’s Day present from Christopher Jones. At least that’s what he says it is.”
“So what is it?”
I pulled out the enclosure and dropped it like a hot potato. The filmy silk panties splayed across the desk. Their redness was brilliant. The hem was delicately worked in matching silk embroidery. They were a real work of art.
Edwin reached across me and touched them reverentially.
“They are fantastic. I didn’t know they did underwear.”
“They don’t. Or they didn’t.”
“If they can produce underwear like this, we could sell it. These would blow the minds of some of our contacts in the States. The detail…”
He gently touched the embroidery.
“…is beautifully done with that touch of imperfection that shows it is hand-made. I wish.” He stopped suddenly.
“What do you wish?” I asked.
Edwin seemed embarrassed. I pressed him.
“What is it?” I asked again.
He looked at me, gulped and said:
“I wish I could see them on you.” He blurted out.
“On me? In your dreams, Edwin! I’m part of the company, not the company tart. If you want to see these on me…”
I stopped speaking as well. I’d had an idea. Maybe it was the effect of the panties, I don’t know, but the idea was wicked.
“I do want to see them on you,” Edwin retorted.
“Then you will have to earn the right to see them. The earning will be hard and difficult. Are you prepared to go that far to see me wearing a pair of French knickers, no matter how beautiful?”
He gulped again. He was thinking things he had never spoken about.
“I think anything might be worth it if you would wear them.”
That was a declaration for me. I knew Edwin fancied me but I hadn’t thought it was any more than a passing attraction. This was serious.
“OK. If you want me to wear them you are going to suffer. Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Then we’ll start now. Down on your hands and knees, Edwin, and beg."
I didn’t believe he’d do it. He dropped to his hands and knees, raised his head, and said: “Please.”
“I told you it would be difficult.”
I kicked off one shoe. I pushed a sweaty nylon-covered foot in his face.
“Suck this!” I ordered.
He opened his mouth, moved forward and sucked my sweaty toes.
“Roll on your back.”
He rolled on his back. I stood up and placed my foot on his face. I moved it around, covering his mouth, then his nose and his eyes. I was pleased that I’d worn a trouser suit to work today or he would be looking up my skirt.
This was amazing. My boss was on his back with my foot on his face. How much further could I go? I decided to try.
“Strip down to your waist.”
He stripped. One of the other staff could walk in at any time. That would be really humiliating.
“Pick up your clothes and crawl on your hands and knees into your office. Wait for me there.”
Off he went, crawling into his office.
I looked in my handbag. There was nothing obviously useful in there. I looked at the coat rack for inspiration. I walked over and took my headscarf that I wore round my neck under the trench coat. I pulled the belt out of the coat’s belt loops. Then I remembered the spare tights in my desk. I checked. There were two unopened packs and the wad of laddered tights that I should have thrown away. I gathered up the laddered tights and stuffed them in my handbag.
I carried the panties in one hand with the belt and scarf. In the other hand I held my bag. I walked confidently into Edwin’s office. I didn’t feel confident. If this went wrong I would lose my job and I liked it. The pay was good but the conditions were great. I was risking the works on Edwin’s fetish for me in red silk panties.
As I entered his office I switched on the “Do Not Disturb” light and locked the door behind me. Edwin was waiting for me, still on his hands and knees. He had hung his jacket on the coat rack. His shirt and vest were on a spare chair.
I crossed to the window and shut the curtains. Then I turned round to face him. I was very nervous but dared not show it.
“Stand up, Edwin! Turn your back to me, hands behind your back.”
“Yes, Sandra.”
I tied his hands with one leg of a pair of laddered tights, wrapping the other leg around his waist before tying it to his bound wrists.
“Kneel!”
He knelt. I pulled his head back and gagged him with tights in his mouth and the headscarf holding them in.
“On the floor.”
He lowered himself awkwardly to the floor. I rolled him to his back with my foot. I dropped beside him and reached for his trousers. He shook his head violently. I slapped his cheek.
“You can’t say no, Edwin.”
I unzipped his trousers then remembered he was still wearing his shoes. I removed his shoes, then pulled his trousers off with a flourish revealing blue boxer shorts with an interesting bulge in them.
I bound his knees together with the trenchcoat’s belt and tied the end to the leg of his desk. Then I sat in his leather swivel chair and looked down at him. I dangled the red panties from one hand. He looked at them as if mesmerised.
“Now, Edwin, this is just the beginning of your quest for the red silk knickers. You will have to repeat this several times before you even get a glimpse of them on me. Are you prepared to endure that?”
He nodded.
