Ms. Bitch Is Mistress Susan

Sub finds his perfect Dominatrix online. The only problem is that she's his boss.

A big man, comfort while sitting for a long period of time had always been elusive. Glenn slept on an expensive mattress, had comfortable seats in his car, an overstuffed, leather recliner with lumbar support in his living room, and sat a on a cushy office chair when sitting in his office. Only, it seemed oxymoronic that he'd spend so much money on comfortable furniture when he more enjoyed uncomfortable positions in his sexual pleasure. Tied to a rack, on his knees for long periods of time, or spread eagled over a table, the only comfort and pleasure there was that he was being so controlled, punished, and disciplined in a dungeon, his favorite spot to be so used and abused.

Glenn reclined in his office chair while watching BDSM video after BDSM video. Leaning forward to reach out his finger to stop one video to view another before leaning back in his comfortable chair again, he was endlessly searching for the perfect video not only to masturbate to but also one that would reveal his perfect mistress. Shopping for a Dominatrix by watching how she interacted with her subs, he needed a new Mistress and this was his way to shop for a new Mistress. Having been through seven Mistresses in ten years, he's yet to find his perfect mistress. As elusive as trying to find the right woman to live with, one who understood his special, sexual needs, he had the same difficulty in finding a mistress as he did in finding a woman.

He watched one Dominatrix, a tall, thin, albeit shapely, sexy, blonde woman with her tits hanging out of her corset discipline and punish her sub. Even though she was good looking and had a nice body, she looked too slutty to him. Tied to what looked like a stripper's pole in her living room, she was whipping a man who was obviously in real pain. Glenn wasn't as much into pain as he was into pleasure. He wouldn't mind a little pain with his pleasure but this Mistress was obviously enjoying whipping this man a little too much.

She spoke with a heavy German accent, obviously phony, and because of that, and because her name was Mistress Hilda, the image she evoked in him was what it must have been like to have lived in Nazi Germany before the war so long ago. Certainly, this image wasn't the image he wanted to have when being controlled, punished, and disciplined. The image he already had of her ruined the one that he needed for him to enjoy being so controlled, used, and abused by her. He'd find it hard to be subservient and to please her when he didn't even like her. As if the whole thing was designed and prearranged for the camera, she was too phony, especially when she spent more time looking in the camera than she did looking at her sub.

Next he watched a video of a pretty woman with long, black hair and big tits who evoked the image of Elvira or Morticia from the Addams Family fame. She slithered around her victims and licked the sides of their faces while staring into the camera and flashing her tongue. Whenever she did that behavior, she reminded him of Gene Simmons from Kiss. He didn't like it when the camera fanned around the room to show her personal possessions, especially her stuffed animal collection. Instead of turning him on to see how she privately lived, it turned him off to see how his Dominatrix's possessions.

Then, occasionally, as is she was a vampire sucking the blood from her victim, she'd lean into her sub to feign biting his neck. She had her man sprawled over an ottoman in her bedroom and was spanking him too lightly with her paddle to be effective in disciplining or punishing him. Her video was nothing more than a joke and an insult to what he needed and wanted. He wished he could create his own Dominatrix by taking what he wanted from one video and to take what he liked from another video.

Of course, a good looking Dominatrix was important, only it wasn't so much their looks as it was their attitudes and the connection that he felt with them. Needing to feel safe when vulnerable, especially when chained or tied, he needed to trust that his Dominatrix would have his best interest in mind and not really hurt, injure, or even kill him. He needed to immediately bond with the woman first and if he wasn't feeling her through her video, chances were good that she was the wrong woman for him.

The next video he watched showed a very obese, older mistress. She looked to be his weight, albeit on a much shorter frame, and his age. He'd prefer someone younger than him by twenty years. It seemed strange that she was torturing a sub with kitchen utensils, tongs, egg beater, and wooden spoons in her kitchen of all places. Maybe the man's peccadillo was food and his fantasy was wearing a colander on his head and an untied apron hung from his neck that didn't cover very much of his nakedness while being beaten with a wooden spoon but the video did nothing for him.

Just as he was unable to connect to the Mistresses in any of these videos and in the hundreds of others that he viewed over months of looking, he was saddened that he'd never find his perfect mistress. A sub without a Dom is a prostitute without a pimp, a man without a penis, an actor without a director, a writer without a story to tell, and a person who is incomplete and unfulfilled. He needed direction. He needed a storyline. He needed to be controlled. Only, he needed the perfect Dominatrix to focus on him and to give him all that he wanted and needed.

Moreover, a big deal for him, none of the videos that he watched today showed a dungeon. He'd never consider a Dominatrix who didn't have a dungeon. Most of the videos he watched in the past didn't show a dungeon. Most of the videos he watched showed the Dominatrix punishing and disciplining her sub in her house and in her bedroom. He could never feel sexually satisfied being on the same level as his Mistress when in her house and among her personal possessions.

He'd feel weird using her bathroom and seeing her toiletries. For him to maintain his sexual fantasy, being in her house just didn't feel right. Being on her level was not what he was looking to find when looking for his Mistress. He needed a dungeon to feel beneath her. He needed a dungeon to feel the fright and the fear of being taken, used, and abused. The dungeon was paramount to what he needed for his sexual fantasy to work.

Glenn's favorite fantasy was Dom/sub. Whenever he read a story or watched a BDSM video, he imagined himself as the main character. He couldn't even count the number of hours he's spent surfing the internet to find his perfect site to save to his favorites. Only few and far between, most BDSM sites did little but to annoy him. Compelled to find the one site that he could masturbate to while watching, he continued looking through thousands of BDSM sites on the internet.

'Boring, boring, and boring,' he thought to himself while perusing BDSM sites.

All the sites he viewed were the same old thing and, as if they were poking fun of him, too many of them appeared too contrived. Wishing he could find such a site that shows a sub kissing his Mistress' ass, licking her pussy, licking her boots, and with her even peeing in his mouth, he wished he could find a Dominatrix who lived closed by him, in the Atlanta, Georgia area. No matter, he'd fly anywhere in the country just to meet the Dominatrix of his dreams. Only, she couldn't be just any Mistress. She had to be someone special. She had to be someone that he was physical, emotionally, and sexually attracted to and someone who he could trust with his deepest, darkest, and most intimate secrets.

Tired of wasting his time and money, realizing he'd know her once he saw her, he's seen enough Dominatrix's online in action to know that he still hasn't found her. For him to go through all the expense of meeting her, she had to be his perfect Dominatrix. He wished he could find a Dominatrix who was as good a conversationalist as she was a storyteller. He needed someone who could relax him with conversation before she told him a story and before she made him feel at ease enough to insert a dildo in his ass for extended anal play.

After being probed, pinched, watered, and a boot licked, he needed a Dominatrix who had a sensual voice and a way with words to go with her good looks. He needed her to be as persuasive in her speech as he was in his desire to please her. His all time sexual fantasy is to lower himself down on his Dominatrix's strap-on dildo and anally fuck himself while his Dom fingered his nipples and whispered what he needed her to say in his ear to relax him enough to impale his ass. It's not all about the physical sex with him, it's about the emotional sex too. He needed to find a Dom who had a brain in her head and who could satisfy him cerebrally as much as she could physically. Unfortunately in his frustrated search to find her, as he could attest to, a good Dominatrix was hard to find.

A bit Medieval, he needed to find a Dom who had a dungeon and lots of good, quality toys. He needed a Dom who was confident enough to be in control to handle every and any situation. He needed a Dom where he felt safe when so controlled while tied to wall or a rack. He needed a Dom who could sexually excite him with her words as much as with her body and by all that she did to his body. He needed a Dom who was good looking enough and controlling enough to make him want to lick her ass as well as her pussy and boots.

* * * * *

As bitchy as she was beautiful, Susan is my bitch of a boss. A control freak and a micro manager, she's the woman who signs my paychecks for a job well done, that is, so long as I do my job her way. Always trying to get along with her so that she won't fire me, she's a difficult woman to please, an understatement. Just as she's impossible to read, she's impossible to please is more like it.

Yet, I wonder, if she wasn't so beautiful, would I want to please her as much as I do. I wonder, if I wasn't so attracted to her, would I want to please her at all. I wonder, if she wasn't so sexy, especially when she's angry at me, would I still dream of her that night bossing me around and spanking my naked ass when I disobey and punishing me by forcing me to do all sorts of naughty, nasty things. I wonder if she wasn't so beautiful and so sexy, would I still dream of her while sexually fantasizing about her allowing me permission to have my wicked way with her naked body. Night and day, she's the fodder for my sexual fantasies. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of her.

"Susan. Susan. Susan. I love you Susan," I say when stroking myself while thinking of her beautiful face and sexy body.

Oh, yeah, I'd do anything to see her naked. I'd do anything to have her touch me, even if it's only to beat me, whip me, discipline me, and punish me, especially if it's to beat me, whip me, discipline me, and punish me. Only, nothing more than a sexual fantasy, if she only knew what I really thought about her, no doubt, she'd fire me for wanting her in a sexual way. If she only knew that I was in love with her, I'd be out of a job. Moreover, if word got around that I enjoyed such sexual perversity of bondage and discipline, I'd be the laughing stock of the office. If word got around that I was in love with my boss, especially in the way that everyone else hated her, they'd think me nuts.

Yet, notwithstanding her bitchiness and always present bad attitude, deeper than a workplace crush or an imagined workplace romance, a sexual attraction developed in me for her. I wanted to please her. When most other employees rebuffed her for trying to control them, I welcomed the power she had over me. I wanted her to control me. Matter of fact, being the submissive man that I am, especially when it comes to a strong, powerful woman, I went out of my way to please her. Being the submissive man that I am and knowing full well that stupid, little mistakes enraged her, I went out of my way to make stupid, little mistakes so that she'd punish and discipline me, yell at me, call me names, and abuse and use me.

In addition to doing my job, pleasing her and trying to make her happy was my main focus. Just as if she was unhappy, then I was unhappy. If she was happy, then I was happy. What most of my co-workers saw as ass kissing and brown nosing was just me being submissive. Hiding it well, they have no idea who I am and what I do when not at work. My personal, private life is none of their business. When trying to please my boss everything else in my meaningless life is insignificantly unimportant. Truly, I cared more about pleasing her than about pleasing myself.

As was everyone else in the office, when I was first hired, there was an office pool on how long I'd last. Even though I was such a big man and towered over my co-workers, being that I was a sensitive and quiet man, odds were that I wouldn't last very long, even though I did. The last man standing, I outlasted everyone and my pool expired with no one left to collect the money but me. When the last employee that predated me was fired or whenever I passed the last date that someone had as my termination date, I was given my $500 pool.

Even though the office firing pools were terminally disturbing, we all participated in the pools to break up the tension that always clouded the office with doom and gloom. Yet, unlike my beaten down co-workers who had trouble working in such a turbulently negative environment, I thrived on the tension and the verbal abuse, the more the better. For them, participating in the pools were a fun way to turn office negatives into a office positives. For me, office pools didn't much matter but I went along with them so as not to be even more alienated from them than I already was.

The only ones not allowed to play the office pool was, of course, our boss and the employee of that particular pool. Much in the way of expiration dates on food at a supermarket, except for those employees who didn't want to participate, everyone had a pool with a termination date on their head. With the chance of winning several hundred dollars, depending on how many employees were left and how many participated in the pool, the lottery pools cut the edge from the misery of our boss firing us. We were constantly joking about who would go next, when this one or that one would go, and who would win the money. The termination day pools was something that kept us sane and something that gave us a few laughs in an otherwise negative environment. Whenever there was a mass firing, some lucky employee could win a couple of thousand dollars.

Able to see the other side of the coin and how all of my co-workers perceived and dreaded her, indeed, on the surface my boss was a horrible woman. Quick to rile and lambaste her employees, insult them, embarrass them, and humiliate them, with no one safe from her hot temper, she berated everyone as if she hated everyone. Perhaps she did. No matter how long someone worked there and what job they did for her, no one was safe from her hot tempered wrath. Yet, despite the anti-social things she did that made people despise her, as if she was our pack leader and we were mere animals, her powerful control over her employees made me fall in love with her.

If there was anything predictable about the woman, it was that she'd be in a bad mood over something inconsequential. With that kind of tension permeating the air, working there with her watching us and waiting for us to make a mistake was very stressful. Yet, instead of finding her intimidating and unfairly demanding, there was just something about her that I not only liked but also found sexually arousing. She made me hot in lustful desire for her. Too be honest, I enjoyed being so controlled by her. It even excited me to be on the bad side of her. I was the only one there who enjoyed her telling me what to do and when to do it.

In the way that some people took their jobs home with them, I took the imagined images of my boss home with me. Imagining her having sex with me, I imagined her stripping me naked and paddling my naked ass for all the mistakes I made at work. Imagining her wearing some sort of sexy outfit, preferably black leather with the tops of her big boobs bobbing and visible, she was the main character in my dreams and sexual fantasies. Knowing full well that my sexual fantasy was just a sexual fantasy and would never happen, I have no idea how many times I masturbated over her with the thoughts of having a romantic relationship with her.

A way for me to relieve the sexual frustration of not having a sexual relationship with her, I masturbated over her a lot. If anything, with all of her criticism and anger focused at me, she was shaping me into a better man and a man driven to please his perceived, albeit imagined woman. Yes, I imagined my boss Susan was my woman. What some would call abuse and recoil, I called sexual satisfaction and wanted more.

Use me and abuse me has always been my motto. So long as the pain isn't too much, give me pain to make me insane with sexual desire for you is what makes my clock go around. As if hot lava seeping and seeming up the cracks and crevices in my life, it was weird how my work gradually morphed into and took over my private life. With my focus attention always on my boss and my work, I didn't have much of a private, personal life. If only there was a way that I could mix business with pleasure, I'd be the happiest man on Earth. Only, not everyone shares my sexual peccadilloes. It's never been easy for me to find my perfect mistress. If only my boss was my mistress, I'd be a happy man.

What should have been obvious for me, took me a long while to discover. Being that we shared the same secret, after all, I should have known she carried a deep, dark, diabolical secret too, long before I did. Obviously, just as my secret was the reason why I am the man that I am, her secret was her reason why she's the woman that she was. In the way that I had difficulty socializing, I imagined that surely, she didn't do well when mingling with the rest of us peons. Especially when socializing with other women, I perceived other women being jealous of her intelligence, her confidence, her beauty, and her body. Just as most of my friends were women, most of her friends were men.

With my mind always on other things, more important things, and sexual things, in the way that a crowd of ordinary, perhaps even normal people, not that I'm abnormal, just different, upset my comfort zone, I felt that I was beneath her in intelligence. In the case of Susan, as employer and employee relationships go, I had much to learn before I dared to rub elbows with her socially. Only, beyond employer and employee and beyond the sexual, physical, and emotional attraction that I had for her, even if she was even remotely interested in me romantically, I knew that things would never work between us. My need for bondage, discipline, and punishment would get in the way of any relationship that I wanted to have with a woman who wasn't my Dominatrix.

Better than the rest of us, if only my co-workers knew that she was our superior in more ways that just being our boss. Yet, one up on her, now that I know her well kept secret. Moreover, I know the way to befriend her is to please her. Perhaps, by going out of my way to please her, she'll allow me the pleasure to experience my sexual fantasy with her controlling me, disciplining me, and punishing me before having sex with me.

* * * * *

Her right hand man, I worked by her side for two years before I discovered her secret that morphed into her secret, sexual life. In the way she worked so hard and verbally whipped, insulted, and berated everyone to work as hard as they did and as hard as she did, I don't know where she found the energy to have a secret life but she did and she had. Admittedly, the verbal and emotional abuse that doesn't work for most people worked for me. I thrived on it and looked forward to receiving it as my needed motivation to please her. Only with her verbal and emotional abuse not nearly enough, just a tease for me to want even more, I craved for her physical and sexual abuse too. If only she'd strike me, I'd be a happy man. If only she'd tortured me to cause me some kind of physical pain, albeit not too much, I'd want her in a way that no employee ever wanted their boss.