Bunsnub Another Love Story Ch 03

Chapter Three: Journey Out of Yesterday

Ah... Yes... Ahhhh... Ohh... AAAhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmm.

My first sexual release in the hands of a woman was an anointing, a rite of passage and more wonderful then anything I'd ever imagined. I was born again and left with a new craving of abominable dimensions. A lot of people would have you believe drug addiction is somehow worse than any other behavioral addiction. I say, 'hog wash' to those narrow minded chumps. I felt like a junky who suffers a needle's pain for a habit's pleasure, a monk the lash for redemption. I was prepared to suffer a slew of painful spankings and humiliation for the wondrous pleasure of my boss' caress. That single moment, kneeling before Ms. Handlesmen, blew any lingering doubts from my immature mind. It proved conclusively that the pain is worth the pleasure! I was ecstatic and couldn't wait to begin my career as secretary to Ms. Handlesmen. I had never slept as well as I had that night, it was as if I'd been cleansed of all guilt. I now understood where salvation lay, in the soft hand of a woman. My dreams were dominated by the women I'd met at Biprods Incorporated, and especially Ms. Handlesmen. Especially, her left hand.

Today began my 'initiation', as Ms. Handlesmen called it. The word popped up after I'd dressed and just before I'd left for home. I hadn't touched down yet and was floating on a cloud, 'cloud nine' I think it's called. I was soaring on love, awaiting instructions to land. She explained to me that every male worker needed to go through at least two days of tests and usually five, as part of their orientation. All I wanted was to kiss this gorgeous woman once, for our lips to touch. I'd hoped it would have happened before I'd left for home, but it didn't. This induction was meant to weed out the incorrigible boys from those deserving; the bitter from the forlorn. To chase the ones who couldn't stomach both physical and mental abuses, piled high with tons of virtue building humiliation. We didn't kiss, but... After yesterday's bonus, I was ready for anything. I jumped into a pair of briefs, slipped on a pair of jeans and stretched into a tee shirt. I didn't even sit down to put on my socks and shoes. Ms. Handlesmen said to arrive at work dressed in something simple, because I would find a uniform awaiting me.

Though still nervous, I stepped from my home and moved with a little more confidence. I felt good about myself and positive I would find a wife at Biprods Incorporated; 'Maybe Ms. Handlesmen' I thought with a heart beat. I let the bus pass and walked to work, taking time to look around. After twenty years in the same home, I finally cared about where it was I lived. Downtown New York, I heard it called. New York! It was a monstrously seductive, yet wonderfully dangerous place to live and work. It's even nicer when you're a man with a girlfriend and a blossoming relationship. Soon I found myself outside the steel and glass menagerie known as the Biprodyke Tower, home to Biprods Incorporated. Today I noticed how well it stuck out from all the other buildings, a towering tribute to a girded penis against a coppice of contemporary bourgeoisie. It took my breath away and sapped me of my strength, but I didn't hesitate to enter.

The pretty blond receptionist remembered me and waved. I slowed to say hello before entering the elevator, making a point of referring to her as, 'Ms'. I wondered if I had nerve enough to ask her for a date... I didn't. She sported a friendly smile that worked at soothing my anxiety. While examining myself in the shined marble I saw a maturing individual, a man. But I'd never been allowed to have male friends or meet with my own dad, so I was just guessing.

This morning I found quite a number of people moving through the main reception area and noticed all were female. 'There must be a few males working here somewhere', I thought to myself. I waited for an elevator along with a very young, dark haired East Indian woman and a younger blond haired German lady. I wanted to be bold, look at them and strike up a conversation. I tried acting cool but wasn't quite ready for that. Both women were astute, pretty and wore their hair short. They dressed in dark colored suits, carried brown leather briefcases and copies of the Wall Street Journal stuffed under an arm.

Once in the elevator and ascending, the Indian lady turned to me and smiled. My eyes bounced off hers and scurried away. She had large roasted-almonds for eyes that invited and also frightened. Her teeth were big and sparkled even in the low lights. I was totally taken aback and smiled shyly without looking up again.

"Are you an employee," she asked me in a softy accented voice. Her words sounded like a gently stirred glass bell of the daintiest crystal. I bit my lip and quietly admitted this was my first day. I began my initiation today and that my name was Joey. I felt Joey was appropriate because it was how Ms. Handlesmen referred to me. I could feel both women look at one another and grin.

"Initiation," the German lady echoed in her own accent. She swung her case to her left hand and drew her arm back. Pulling her arm back allowed her a healthy swing and she slapped my behind... Whap! Her unexpected swat sent me leaping forward. She laughed aloud and I flashed a look in her direction. My eyes were swatted to the floor and I was left swallowing hard. Taking a breath, I tried to stay calm and not move, remembering Ms. Handlesmen's words. Then I felt the pretty Indian lady's hand search for and quickly find a pinch of my buttocks. She found it on the soft underside of my right cheek and she held it tight for the rest of the ride. The slap had sent me into the wall with the buttons, the pinch held me against it and as usual I didn't know what to do, and as usual I did nothing. I began acting properly and adjusting to whatever position they wished me. I wanted to look back over my shoulder at my attackers, but settled for their reflections and quick glances that kept them in laughter.

By the time we reached their floor, the seventh, my ass was sore. Especially the spot pinched by the Indian lady's fingers. Before she stepped from the elevator, the German lady gave my buttocks a final swat. I yelped, but kept my gaze lowered. I continued looking down into the corner of the compartment with tears in my eyes and sniffling hard.

"Oh, the poor baby. See ya," I heard them say as the doors were closing between us. Then I slumped and faltered back to the elevator's gentle start. I then fell forward with arms outstretched, my hands opening to land against the wall. With my feet spread wide I steadied myself as I let my head hang and caught my breath. I couldn't believe how friendly the women were around here. I could visualize a Garden of Eden, as I touched gently through my jeans, the area of freshly twisted flesh. I moaned under my breath and almost went to grab at my crotch; an old male habit!

I exited on the thirteenth floor and walked up to the doors of Ms. Handlesmen's office. I decided it was still best to knock before entering. The secretary's voice bade me enter.

"Joey!" the secretary said while standing and moving out from behind her desk. Once again I found her fitted into a sharply tailored suit. It was a collarless black two-piece, of sand washed crepe de chine, over a blazing pink silk blouse that clung to her small bosom like cellophane. I was sure she was without a bra. Her skirt came to just above her knees and she was without stockings. My eyes followed her tapering legs down to a pair of dainty feet fit into open toed black pumps, from which protruded a bit of her toes. The shoes must have had five inch heels. She walked up to me and put her hands on her hips, waiting for me to look at her. Then she began.

"Joey, I am to prepare you for today's initiation. You'll first be seen by a doctor because a complete physical is always the first order of business." That seemed reasonable enough and I stood looking at her as she continued. "Before we visit the doctor, I want you to disrobe." She stayed calm, cool and calculated. Her crisp voice and eyes glint caused me to shiver. I tried to keep from looking at her small chest thrust out in front of me. "You realize what hesitation will earn you," she reminded me. Her breasts were very pointy and I actually attempted to visualize them.

I understood what hesitation would get me and while she stood there staring at me, a cat leering at a mouse, I became a wall painting. I began by removing my tee shirt, but moved slowly. I discarded my shoes and socks easily enough, but when it came to my jeans I became nervous again. Once again my arousal became an embarrassing hurdle that shied me, but the secretary would have none of that. Her toe started tapping on the rug, a gloom darkened her face and the room. Suddenly her rage burst free and I froze immobile. Her anger landed like a salvo of bombs exploding in and from all directions.

"You get those disgusting jeans off! You get them off right now young man," she screamed in a loud bellowing voice that made me jump. She approached me quickly and like an irate mother commenced swatting my behind through my pants. I unzipped my fly and pulled them down as quickly as I could. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

I jumped to her hands barrage but stayed in place, offering her my ass even as I bent to kick the wadded mass from my ankles. Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. The secretary's hand was experienced and continued through the thin cotton protection of my briefs, which were no protection at all. I slipped them free as quickly as I could. The pain competed with my shame, to see which could bring me lower; it was a game I understood only too well. After several sound spanks on my bare behind she stopped and came to stand in front of me. She stood with her hands once more on her hips and her chest thrust forward, daring me to look at it. I stood crouched over, knees together, toes in, fighting to keep my hands at my sides. I was sniveling and didn't know where to look. I could barely steal glances in her direction.

I could feel her anger and my glances found her furious, eyes opened wide and teeth clenched. Her breathing was labored and her chest heaved. I stood before her with my eyes lowered and my buns twitching from the sting. I found a spanking this early in the morning, more exhilarating then a cup of strong coffee. A few tears formed in the corners of my eyes and a few more ran down my cheeks. I didn't let them bother me and I certainly wasn't going to let a little thing like this ruin my career. A long thick strand of cum oozed from the head of my throbbing hard-on, following an earlier one that already bridged my thighs. The secretary spotted it and followed it with her eyes. I dared not move my hands from my sides and stood aquiver. I spotted her eyes watching the movement of my syrup and like a chastised child waited for her to calm down. I wished her to continue with the verbal instruction.

In a suddenly calmer tone, she ordered me to pick up my clothes and hang them on a coat tree situated by the door. I didn't want to aggravate her again and acted quickly, almost at a run. I was made very aware of my embarrassingly excited condition. It felt awkward, downright immoral and yet sensual, moving around an unfamiliar office naked. Especially with my boner bobbing around in front of me, strewing thin strands of secretion everywhere it looked. This was a first that left me absolutely giddy with anticipation and I pondered the possibilities. Maybe I would soon be 'making out' with Ms. Handlesmen or having sex with the secretary. For my mind, the possibilities were endless and then I heard the secretary's voice. She was ordering me to come stand near a chair, on which an open carton sat. I couldn't see the carton's contents and didn't care to.

From the carton she retrieved a ring, from which a pair of very tiny panties hung. They were the abbreviated bikini style, flesh toned and see-through, made of a space-age material. She handed them to me with instructions to put them on. I worked them in my fingers a few moments, attempting to figure them out, but it was like holding an invisible thread. I soon slipped my foot through what I hoped was the right hole. They fit snugly and I had a time sliding them up past my thighs. The rear consisted of a single string that fit uncomfortably into the crack of my ass. The front had just enough expandable material to hold my balls and to stretch out and over the head of my penis. On the point farthest out from my body, on that area of material constructed to house the head of an excited male's organ, hung the silver ring. It was large enough for the clasp of a leash, or a woman's finger. I had little understanding as to its purpose until the secretary demonstrated its use for me.

She slipped the index finger of her right hand through the ring and pulled. Like this she began moving me slowly around the room, guiding me like an object she wished to display. I felt the string dig into the crevice of my behind and looked down to see the material stretch both into and away from my penis. My balls felt a bit curious but could not slip out of their awkward confinement. My organ looked as though it were wading in a gravy bowl.

"Very impressive my little boy," the secretary said looking down into the gravy boat. In moments the panties became drenched in my arousal and the secretary let the ring go. "You certainly are a soppy one." The material snapped into place, forming to my penis like a latex glove to a hand, leaving a small top portion of my penis and bushy pubes exposed.

Next, the secretary pulled from the box what looked like a giant fan, only it was a collar and though darker, matched the color of my new undies. She came close but was careful to stand at my side, away from my wet panties. She opened the fan full and worked it around my neck. I realized the results immediately. Now my view was restricted to everything above the edge of the collar, which was almost two feet from my neck. Half the world was cut from my view, yet anyone could examine my body at their leisure. I was the object here, I was the only one who couldn't look down at myself and it made me very self-conscious. I also felt as if my head were sitting on a large serving platter, a turned out mold of pate de emasculus, soft, ripe and ready to serve.

The secretary stood back and smiled while surveying her work. She looked smug and self-satisfied, nodding to herself in approval while looking me up and down. Her eyes scanned carefully, with deliberation. I stood like a fool, unsure of what I was, waiting for her to tell me. I could feel my hard-on pulsating, more excited and thrilled then ever. It enjoyed being available to everyone but me. I felt compelled to thrust my pelvis forward, as if in offering to her. Her eyes saw my gesture and jumped up to meet mine. Mine dropped to the collar, which stretched out before me like an unending barren desert. I couldn't move, I was afraid to stir a breath's distance. I waited until she steered me to a corner of the room and made me stand facing into it. I was to wait there without moving or making a sound, until the nurse arrived to escort me to the doctor's office. I got into the corner as deep as my collar would allow, trying to hide from the secretary and the world. I wondered where Ms. Handlesmen was.

I had not seen or heard Ms. Handlesmen this morning. I wondered where she might be, though I knew it was none of my business. I thought back to yesterday and to the wonderfully painful experience she had shared with me and I couldn't think about the bonus enough. It was absolutely the best orgasm I'd ever experienced and now I couldn't wait to engage in sexual intercourse. I would never jag-off again, Ms. Handlesmen had ruined that for me. Her hand provided me an experience I'll never forget.

It seemed Ms. Handlesmen had already helped me become a little more comfortable around women, though I was nowhere near to understanding them. I had no clue as to what women wanted, or what made them tick and I definitely didn't understand what turned them on. But with Ms. Handlesmen's help I felt sure to define a relationship with the opposite sex. I couldn't say whether or not any of it made sense, but Ms. Monroe had been right about working at Biprods Incorporated. It was helping me to break out of my shell and I enjoyed what I saw through the large cracks.

I suddenly saw my life as a wall-sized unfinished tapestry that I was stitching by hand. I saw it as a billion piece jig-saw puzzle that I'd just begun assembling. In both cases, I had an incomplete mental picture of the finished product, because neither came with instructions, or a photo to guide me.

Then again, I felt like a man in a fog so dense I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I was afraid to move, for fear of stepping in front of an approaching train or rushing auto. I feared dropping from a pier or into a deep hole. My insecurity was a product of childhood failure and all I could do was reach out in desperation. I reached into the thick white mist and groped for someone who would take me by the hand and lead me into the sunlight.

I found my eyes climbing up and down in the long edge formed by the meeting of the walls. I discovered it to be far more complex then expected. A corner is not simply a straight line; it's an infinite series of dot clusters that represent the absurdity of man's pseudo-accomplishments.

It was becoming difficult to stay motionless, to keep my butt from twitching and my mind from pulling on my penis. My mind found an itch and soon a dozen more. It picked up on a running drop of perspiration from hundreds beading across my forehead. This wasn't easy, not that I expected any job to be unchallenging. After all, a job should be demanding and it's meant to be equally rewarding and therein lays the satisfaction of work. I would have worked for the bonus only.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I tried to stay calm as I became antsy. Where had the secretary gone? Was she sitting at her desk? Yes, sitting and watching me suffer, hoping I'd make a slip so she could jump all over me. She was certainly as stern as she was lovely and for some reason I attempted to visualize her pregnant. As my lover, wife, and mother.

We were cuddling in a bed, but I kept pushing my eyes into the corner. I wedged them between the walls. I crawled in with them every time I slipped out, and I waited and waited, and waited. Even my balls sweat.