Bunsnub Another Love Story Ch 02

Chapter Two: Joey, Joey, Joey

Once inside, a black marble reception area dosed me in reality and I became a preprogrammed android. Just as Ms. Monroe had led me to expect, I found a blond-haired receptionist sitting behind a black marble booth. Her smile drew me on mechanically.

"Yes sir, may I help you?" she chimed in what I sensed to be a worn but meaningful phrase, a phrase that pulled my next words from me.

"Ms. Handlesmen please, my name is Joe Lipinwiskme and I have an appointment," I muttered with a polite limp. I was nervous as could be and sweating hard. I found it difficult to look at the receptionist even with her head lowered, scanning the date book. She was just too pretty for me, even on a dare. I could only hope that Ms. Monroe had been correct in sending me here. If I feared the receptionist, how would I to react in front of a vice president.

"Yes... you may take any elevator from that bank. Take it to the thirteenth floor and exit, then enter the doors you find directly across from you," she explained. She was pointing in the direction of a long wall decorated with mirrors and three elevators.

"Thank you ma'am," I stated through a bold front she obviously saw through. Nothing seemed to help my ego. While walking away I looked around. I noticed all the walls, the floor and ceiling were of marble and reflected like the mirrors themselves. I spotted my figure in the black stone, saw the future and made to walk taller while adjusting my tie's knot.

"It's Ms. and good luck," she shot back. I wanted to look around at her but didn't. I knew she was smiling and probably laughing. I walked into a waiting elevator as quickly as I could, hoping she thought I didn't hear her.

The slow elevator ride seemed like an endless trip to the dentist. The cab's black marble interior, with its dainty silver trim and low lights did little to lighten the moment. I was so nervous I was trembling, I had to pee and I needed to wipe my brow a couple of times, under my nose more often. I'd realized no deodorant was going to get me through this day and I now realized, neither would a couple. I got off the elevator on the thirteenth floor and stepped into another monument to marble. I walked across the hall to the doors as instructed and knocked. I waited, but nothing happened and I almost figured I'd made a mistake, maybe I was on the wrong floor. I wiped my brow and once again caught my breath. There were more doors up and down the hall, but this was the one across from the elevator as I got off. Without thinking, I knocked again. This time I obeyed a voice that bid me to enter. I found myself in another reception room, but one quite different.

This reception room was an elegant study in natures' primary colors; reds, blues and yellows. There were a few white leather upholstered chairs about, near small well-polished tables. The tables were constructed of a very light colored wood that reminded me of flesh. On each table sat a silver trimmed lamp, along with magazines and ashtrays. Strange, eerie pictures decorated the offbeat colored walls. They were captivatingly bizarre and alluring works of art and every one of them reminded me of a man in pain... At least that's what I think I saw. Maybe it was all simply mental residue, ashes left on my id from all those ink blot tests Ms. Monroe had provided me.

Behind a well-polished black lacquered desk, sat a lady whose extremely stern expression contrasted sharply with her young unblemished beauty and the lively surroundings. She seemed to exist in a completely different room, or at least in another dimension. Both she and the desk seemed without color and it took me awhile to acclimate myself. She had black hair that she wore pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a sharp two-piece gabardine suit in black, over a crisp midnight blue blouse. She looked at me with steely gray eyes through black rimmed glasses, expressively terse. Her thin dark-red lips moved little as she spoke, but she was loud.

"Mr. Lipinwiskme," she asked in clear crisp words. Her voice snapped in the air like the tip of a bull-whip.

"Yes ma'am, I'm here to..." I began, but she cut me off with another snap.

"I know why your here young man! You may enter through that door, Ms. Handlesmen is expecting you," she said with an absolute air of authority, while gesturing toward another door. She seemed to have little regard for me and yet her eyes washed over me like a soapy washcloth in a shower. I'd been thrown off balance and didn't have time to think of my fears, I was acting without thought.

"Thank you ma'am," I offered, knowing it was of little consequence to such a cold creature.

I entered another room and gone were the colors. This magnificent office was done entirely in white, solid gloss white and complimented with just enough red to suggest a splattering of blood. It looked as if small bands of English and Irish knights, armed with only axe, sword and shield, had just completed a skirmish. These walls too, were decorated with suggestively painful pictures. There was one that reminded me of a very sore behind. I soon realized that many of the paintings were in fact male behinds, which reminded me of my mom for some reason.

Ms. Handlesmen was sitting back in a large white chair, behind a polished teak desk cluttered with papers. She wore a brilliantly white three-piece suit over a ruffled powder blue blouse. The blouse was opened enough to show off her deep cleavage. She was about thirty years old, a stunning red head with flashing blue eyes against pastel pink skin. She had a sculpted nose and lips by Michelangelo. Her hair was full, lush and cascaded about her shoulders most provocatively. She was a powerful picture, of a powerful woman, in a potent situation.

As timorous and skittish as I was, I felt my passions surge out of my control. Never had they been driven to such exciting, disconcerted heights. I was gripped by erotic urgency and backed into a lewd corner. Since meeting with Ms. Monroe my life had been moving through a world of exploding passions and Ms. Handlesmen was a fitting corollary. My balls became very sweaty and started itching. I could feel my already swollen penis stir and my pants bulge indecently. My eyes flittered like a maddened moth between this beautiful woman and the room, in nervous nonchalance. I was floating around in space as Ms. Handlesmen demonstrated the awesome power she already held over me. Her body overwhelmed my genitals and I only hoped she didn't notice... But she did of course. She made no bones about staring at my crotch before and after meeting with my eyes.

"Joey," she said, motioning to the seat she wished me to take. "Please sit down, in that chair like a good boy."

As instructed I sat in the chosen chair, the oddest of all the chairs available. It was the one in front of her desk. It was a bit high to climb into and then deep, after that, uncomfortably odd. It was designed with a steep ridge meant for the user to straddle. I thought sure it would slice through the material of my trousers. The long thin crest fit the crack of my ass and dug into the tender area. I felt almost as if I were sitting on steel, the edge of a saber. I acted as if everything was fine because I thought I should. I knew Ms. Handlesmen could tell otherwise and not simply because it was her chair.

"Joey, Ms. Monroe speaks very highly of you, she really does. In fact she's never spoken higher of anyone and I've known Ms. Monroe all my life. When she suggested you would be perfect for the position of my personal secretary, I had no doubts. I've been far too long without a good one."

"Thank you ma'am, Ms. Monroe is very kind," I blurted out. I cut in on Ms. Handlesmen with a failed attempt at sophistication and then caught myself. I felt like a blubbering fool with a foot in his mouth. I didn't know what to do next, I was sure I'd offended and lost everything. Again, I was going to let myself and now Ms. Monroe down. I was already falling, tumbling back to a life of non-existence.

"Yes," Ms. Handlesmen moved to cut me short. She dropped her hands to the desk, palms down and finished a couple breaths with a cocked head. My eyes fell from hers with my gulp and I listened. "Ms. Monroe is very kind, but it's you, that we're here to talk about. I would appreciate you keeping silent. You must learn to keep silent at all times, unless called upon to speak. After all, you're simply a male," she continued calmly. I failed at lifting my eyes to hers. "Then dear boy, you simply answer the question posed, or state what's expected and then shut-up. Now I hope that isn't too difficult for your brain to comprehend and I hope I've made myself clear?" Our eyes met and, and like a wielded razor, hers sliced through to my soul and turned me inside out. I sat there, bewildered by so charismatic a demand. I was spellbound and swallowed hard.

"Yes ma'am," I choked aloud, without a moment's reflection.

"Very good, then you and I will get along well," she said with a big warm smile. She sighed deeply and looked relieved. She left me confused and flipped through a couple of papers from an open folder on her desk. I watched her reading some long sentences, bits and pieces. I sat there staring at her, waiting to dash away if she looked up suddenly. Here was another beautiful women, every bit as beautiful as Ms. Monroe and maybe more so. She looked up quickly and snared my eyes before they could flee. She demanded my attention, but got a face flushed with crimson. She laughed with a bob of her head, a flippant grin and went on.

"After sifting through the many applicants Joey, your name stood out. It stood out for a very good reason Joey, and I'll tell you what that reason is. Everything being equal among all the male finalists, there was one thing that most impressed me about you. I'm swayed by your remarkable passion for discipline."

'Passion for discipline?' I thought to myself and cringed. Oh why and what had Ms. Monroe told Ms. Handlesmen. I should stop everything here and now, maybe. I should get up right now and walk out, maybe. I should run back to the lonely world and live without friends or acquaintances. Where even my meaner neighbors have grown up, married and have families of their own. And if the neighbors invite me to their homes it's simply to humiliate and abuse me, and I'll admit that sometimes I enjoy it. Well maybe most of the time, but is that normal? Is that living? Hey, I could find a woman and marry, I was convinced of it.

"You need to understand some things Joey," Ms. Handlesmen continued. She became somber and looked at me with definite intent. "We run a very tight-knit, but well lubricated organization here at Biprods Incorporated. Consequently a new person, especially males, must meet very high standards. There are also some rather strange standards we'll get into later, or should I say, you'll get into later. In either case, Biprods Incorporated has no time for riffraff, truants, thieves or slouches etcetera. If caught in any questionable circumstances, simply questionable mind you... Even if completely unproven, you are dealt with severely." I sat motionless, trying to fathom everything she said, as she continued saying it.

"The point is this, we are a generous, fair minded but vicious organization, and Ms. Monroe thought you would fit in. So, correct me if I'm wrong. You're accustomed to discipline and enjoy being spanked or whipped. You've been put under the hand, bitten by leather and weathered the cane?" She was still looking into me, stomping around in my head, the head of my cock that is. It was from there I was conducting all my operations. "Right or wrong," she asked again. My mind was a wet noodle, an Alka-Seltzer fizzling in mud. She had the elbow of her right arm on the desk and its hand just under her chin. With an extended index finger she tapped at her cheek in a sign of impatience. I slowly found enough of myself to realize I was quivering.

I flipped through many bright shades of crimson in light of those words. I couldn't deny the truth, or the tales they told about me. Shame wanted me to turn my eyes from hers, embarrassment wanted me to turn my head and hide, but Ms. Handlesmen was strongest. She held me fast and nailed me steady, until I ended up stuttering as best I could.

"I... well... I... guess, I... mean... I'm not sure..."

Ms. Handlesmen laughed at my pitiful response. "Now now, Joey, Ms. Monroe is my oldest friend and a sorority sister. Were sisters in PI LODA CUM. Our sorority's entire philosophy centers around the most radical of feminist precepts. I mean completely beyond the most reactionary of all present philosophies. We exist to rectify sixty-nine thousand years of injustice and bring balance back to our species. It's a goal I'm sure you can agree with." She leaned forward and allowed me a splendid view of her deep cleavage. I was a head-bobbing toy dog, sitting on the dashboard of her Rolls. I was fastened in place, shaking my head yes as she pressed her breasts out and went on. "We exist to further the concepts, the history and our agenda of social re-evolution. To survive as a species, we must re-embrace female dominance and complete male servitude. I'm sure you have some knowledge of this. I'm also positive you are without objections to so important a goal as that." Her logic turned my head into little 'no' twists, while I stared at her as if she were Santa Claus and I was seeing her for the first time. Her chest moved with each of her breaths and counted our moments. Still red from shame, my body in the throes of hot flashes, I stammered some more.

"Ah... I... don't know... I... mean, I guess so... I... ah... ah... ah." I was chewing on my lower lip while attempting to put everything, or at least something, into a prospective. Maybe if I could gather my thoughts and wits. Is this what life is all about? How was I to know, I'd never been away from my mom and she'd been as helpful as a closed tome. I decided I'd just been shown the road to success, the remedy to all my problems. I'd been given another chance, another opportunity to accept reality. I didn't realize it would mean my inevitable surrender. I thought of Ms. Monroe and how much she'd learned about me. No one knew more, not even mom when she was alive. I thought of her genuine concerns for me and my future. I thought of her faith in me, convinced I would dispel my fear of women. I felt her wiggle in beside me and made her room. I needed her beside me; I needed to bask in her warmth. She could provide me the backbone I sorely lack. I had no reason to disagree with Ms. Handlesmen and looked up from her breasts.

"No ma'am... I... have no objections to female dominance, ma'am." And with that admission, I felt the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders.

"Good boy and you have no objections to being disciplined regularly and severely. After all, you're not a baby anymore, right," Ms. Handlesmen queried in a soft voice that tickled my crotch. I smiled broadly. She was staring at me, shaking her head 'no'. She was asking me something quite personal and answering it as well. It left me light headed and giddy inside.

"I don't object ma'am," I admitted without understanding, or caring about what it was I was getting myself into. I was deliriously nervous, knee-knocking excited, and Ms. Handlesmen allowed me little reason to be otherwise. What was happening to me, I was so agitated I couldn't keep my legs from bouncing together rapidly, though it caused the ridge to gnaw painfully on the crack of my ass.

"Good, then if you pass the simple tests I give you, I will hire you. Your salary will begin at thirty-five thousand dollars a year, with benefits and bonuses, when earned."

My eyes opened wide when I heard those figures. Suddenly, things were soaring beyond my wildest dreams. The room got brighter and my head went up in pride. Ms. Monroe had steered me in the right direction financially and I expected romance to follow suit. From the way things were going, I almost believed I would find a woman of my own very soon, and right here at Biprods Incorporated. My dreams of marriage rekindled and brought me comfort.

"The first test is quite simple Joey. I wish to ensure that everything we've just talked about is true. It seems boys will say the damnedest things to land a job with us. I'm sure you understand why I need to discover the truth. So as a new male employee, I expect you to put yourself over my knee. We need to be sure, that as a man, you can tolerate the several types of discipline we employ. Of course the first and most often used method, is the spanking," Ms. Handlesmen said, watching another shocked expression hit my face. After I endured more hot flashes and bright pinks, she went on. "You see, Joey, all females at Biprod Incorporated are your superiors and may discipline you at anytime, anywhere and for any reason. It's all part of their responsibility. Considering it takes a few days at best for most men to acclimate themselves to our rigorous requirements, we encourage the ladies to discipline often. Thus, spankings are numerous in the beginning but taper off as time passes, or should I say, as the male learns. It's really not that difficult to understand and you see, it plays into the total scheme of things." She was still smiling and nodding at me and I simply nodded too.

"Ah, yes ma'am."

"Good boy, then why don't you stand up to remove your shoes and socks. Then discard your trousers and underwear," she ordered while pushing back her chair. Her eyes held mine under a spell I couldn't evade, even as hers dashed about my body. After the shock of that order sank in, I slipped from the seat.

"Ma'am... now? Here? I... " I stammered. I balked in stumbling discomfort and rose to my feet in confusion. My head was spinning and I felt something amiss, but I couldn't see, hear, or feel through the mounting tension.

"Joey, I just took a lot of time explaining to you why you got the job and I explained to you about the discipline. Joey, it's an experience you need to accustom yourself and I haven't got the time to play games. I expect you to act like a grown up, so strip down or walk out that door now and never come back," Ms. Handlesmen screamed while slapping both her hands down flat on her desk. The abrupt change sent me into the air. She looked at me differently now, her eyes in flames and her mouth in a scowl. She waited for my response, like an actress awaiting her cue, knowing the lines, but needing to hear them.

I'd only been naked in front of a girl one time, before Ms. Monroe made me spend several of our sessions naked and now I understood why she'd done it. But I still didn't know how to do it properly. I no longer wished to be lonely and Ms. Monroe gave me hope. She assured me I needed this job to escape life's misfortunes and nothing I'd seen or heard had proved her wrong. Though I was bitterly embarrassed and couldn't keep my eyes from shooting about the office, between the pictures and thinking of the money, my shaking hands went for my trousers button.

"Good boy, Joey... you will never regret this, I promise you Joey," Ms. Handlesmen said with a confidence that spurred me on in a strange way, a totally erotic way.

I stood before my new matriarch and began fumbling with my trousers' button, without thinking about what it was I was doing. After all, I argued with myself, this was only slightly worse then when my mom was alive. Actually it was better, because mom wasn't a stunning red head with big breasts. I was shaking with excitement and my breath was coming in little gulps I had to think about taking. I had succeeded at this with Ms. Monroe and that should have made things easier, but it wasn't helping. When I got to that point and hesitated at lowering my trousers, Ms. Handlesmen helped.