Bunsnub Another Love Story Ch 12

Chapter Twelve: Sit On It!

The secretary aimed me well and had me land on the stool's point.

"Let's fit you on in the first try, shall we," she whispered. Immediately, I realized her intentions were to balance me on the stool's apex and force my rear portal open around the steel peak, until I wore the chair as I had the butt plug. She went to great lengths, grabbing fistfuls of my ass cheeks and spreading them apart, while pressing me open on the warming pinnacle. While she worked, she stood in front of me, bent at the waist. I couldn't help staring into her cleavage, it was almost in my face and I'd recently found myself looking at all the cleavages I could find. Though a lot shallower then Ms. Handlesmen's, it intrigued me as all others. I would bet it was a warm luscious place and I was almost tempted to reach it with my tongue, damn the consequence. I was light-headed from our proximity, her skin, her scent and her cheek brushing against my forehead. I stayed faint from her breath on my neck and shoulder, her hands working on my behind. With the aid of so many indescribably exciting things, I was kept from my misery. I was drifting on a cloud and wanted to kiss this rough vixen, to touch my lips to her skin, just once.

Quite innocently, I was breathing on the secretary's neck in return, hoping I guessed that it would somehow turn her on. As if a novice such as myself could excite a real woman such as this. She continued in a strictly business manner, her fingers clutching handfuls of my butt flesh and yanking. She tugged and pulled with all her might, spreading my rectum open around the giant spike. I began to think she had every intention of ripping me open and splitting me in two, but fortunately she stopped. She ceased struggling and stood, then straightened her outfit with a wiggle. I could tell she wasn't completely satisfied with her work and accepted it with a grudge. I didn't understand how she expected me to stay like this. If I leaned even the tiniest bit in any direction or so much as twitched my behind, the point of the cone caused me pain. It was every bit as uncomfortable as the stem, just not as deep. She looked me in the eye and raised a finger in warning.

"Listen to me boy. The point of the cone will not bother you, as long as you stay centered and upright. In that way, you're opened around it properly and it will work gently deeper. It will provide you pain if you move or slouch, even a little. You are to wait here as I've put you and you are not to move. I don't want to even see a wiggle," she stated in an authoritative voice. She was bent slightly at the waist, shaking the finger in my face and seemed perturbed. Her face was tight, eyebrows arched. "No fidgeting, no looking around, no deep breaths or coughing. You are to keep your feet flat on the floor, knees well parted and your hands are to lie on your thighs, palms up." I was adjusting as she spoke, resigned to having less freedom then the palm tree sitting beside me. I started and almost ejaculated when she grabbed me. She situated my balls by pulling on them rudely, until they hung to her satisfaction. "Don't even move a finger, understand me?" She finished with a wave of her hand, then stood and straightened herself out, as I sighed to pleasures of pain.

"Yes ma'am," I moaned politely.

I watched the secretary move to Ms. Handlesmen's desk and begin tidying up, stacking papers and moving doodads about. Suddenly, as if for the first time, I saw it, I zeroed in on her behind. She was endowed with small round cheeks that appeared ready to burst free, to rip out of their fitted bluish-green confinement. I watched her fanny move to her work, as my own continued oozing open, on the summit of the china cap. My weight and gravity pushed and pulled me down slowly, providing me a very strange sensation in an equally grotesque situation.

It probably wasn't as long a time as my imagination led me to believe, but it seemed as if I'd been sitting on the very point of a pyramid for hours. Every so often the secretary would stop whatever it was she was doing and step up to me, come stand between my legs. She would grab my ass cheeks and spread them as far as she could. She would exercise until the strain radiated as sound, and then she would stop. She always provided me a view of her cleavage as she pulled my buns apart and twisted me further onto the point. The area around my rectum had become so damp with perspiration and natural body secretions, that it had become easy for her to screw me back and forth. For some reason it bothered me when she laughed to herself, as she twisted me. I truly believed she meant to fit that chair into my rectum, but I didn't care, because every time she lowered her chest before me, my satyriasis jumped into the driver's seat and spun me out of control. It boiled my insides and through the process of convection, purified everything else from of my mind. All I could think of was her; her proximity, her scent, her warm rough hands and that intriguing cleavage.

There were no available timepieces for me to use as reference, no conventional way for me to judge the passing of events. My pains, my throbbing heart and slowly spreading sphincter acted as an hourglass measured in eons. I was a man-dial, a person piece... What a career I'd begun. Just when I'd almost slipped entirely away, I was brought back.

To my surprise the door bolted open and Ms. Handlesmen stormed in. Startled by her abrupt entrance my eyes grabbed her instantaneously, like my arms desired. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Damn those sperm shooting bitches!"

"Oh, oh," the secretary said under her breath in warning. Ms. Handlesmen slammed the door behind her and hissed aloud. With a follow through from a great entrance, she stood looking at the ceiling, legs spread, fists clenched and on her hips.

"They're so damn stubborn, just like fuckin' men," she yelled through clenched teeth. She raised her arms into the air, to heaven and spirits outside my reach. When she finally discovered me her eyes sliced through me like a laser beam, then burst into fire and flashes of lightening that made me afraid. She stormed in my direction, discarding her jacket on a chair as she moved. She rolled up her shirtsleeves and took off her tie, and suddenly I was witnessing another side to my woman.

My lover hesitated when she spotted me sitting on the stool I would later learn she invented. She slowed somewhat and began looking me over carefully as she approached. When her eyes came for mine I lowered mine shyly, as if looking at her for the first time. I could feel the rage that yet ruled the moment and considered her earlier words. This is where I fit in.

"Well..." she bellowed with anger. "...At least you're where you belong!" She came around the desk with another pink towel and draped it over the same edge of her desk as before. She sat down in her chair and turned to me, lighter in hand, arm extended.

I took the lighter from her and held a flame under the cigar she prepared to enjoy. She used her draw to stoke the tip into a small flame, then took the lighter from me and sunk into her chair. She sat back while exhaling into the air above us. Her eyes began scanning me and I straightened my spine with a smile, while awaiting instructions. I pretended everything was fine, but couldn't adjust to the chair's point so deep inside me, and pressing deeper. The woman I loved put her cigar aside and stood.

"Stand up you sniveling wimp," this grand woman demanded of me. She was standing near the towel with her legs apart, hands on hips and the greatest of arias upon her lips. The fire was still in her eyes and a look of hatred was painted across her face. Her thick wild fiery red hair added to an exciting show; Brunnhilde encircled by flames, though I be no Siegfried. I was but a lowly servant slave, here to obey. I stood, producing a loud wet 'POP' as my asshole released the stainless steel point, breaking the suction I had formed. I thought sure I would lift the chair when I stood, but fortunately the weight of the chair was too much for my sigmoid flexure. My lover looked me up and down and a small smile interfered with the anger, just as she said it would.

"Well aren't we pretty today. I definitely like that uniform on you Joey," she said appreciatively, but I could sense something troubled her and it wasn't me, though that's why I was here.

"Get over here now," Ms. Handlesmen demanded in a smooth deep voice, pointing at the towel with the finger of one hand. I obeyed in a snap and jumped the step required to reach the towel, then draped myself over it. I knew how she wished me; I never needed to be reminded. My hands reached the other side of the desk and gripped the edge. I planted my feet flat, steadied myself and gritted my teeth. I closed my eyes and raised my ass high for her. I was bracing for the worst, hurricane Handlesmen was just off my coast and coming in fast.

How much more abuse could my poor behind take, how much more internal and external punishment could I tolerate. Was my lover planning on ripping me into shreds in search of contentment? Was I to die in the service of Ms. Handlesmen? Would that bring me anything but pride?

To my surprise, Ms. Handlesmen's hand came to my ass gently and opened wide around one of my cheeks. It provided me both pain and a warm wonderful feeling as it began caressing me tenderly. In a display of wanton desire, I went up on my toes to push my ass back against her hand and for a moment I was caressing my lover. Suddenly we were caressing each other, like a husband and wife, or wife and wife. Her fingers teased me in circular motions, running themselves around the outer frills of my uniform, then she slid her middle finger into and along my moist crevice. I swooned to her hands touch and thrilled to its intimidating search, but then the inevitable arrived.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! The hand jumped into overdrive. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! The sounds reverberated around the room as my lover commenced taking her hostility and anger out on my posterior. I jumped, yelped, wiggled, screamed and bounced around in an energetic dance meant to help my poor lady relax. Not once did I attempt to escape or elude, though her assault drove me to the far edges of space. My endurance and energetic surrender was a heat-sink for my high-strung lover and right now I was dispelling tensions and heat at an enormous rate.

"Damn those sniveling twats, I'll get their attention," my boss hissed through gritted teeth. Her hand animated her words with a, whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Her words both demanded and received my undivided attention. "Why can't I get them to understand," she yelled further. My tears flowed freely and I struggled to keep from screaming, or blurting out. I wasn't here to upset my lover further. I could hear my ass cheeks trembling to the results of a mighty swing and maddening tune, gyrating in an erotic performance meant to provide the necessary diversion. I was there to provide my lover release and rapture and I hoped she'd soon find them. My ass just couldn't take any more, and the pain had me on the brink of unconsciousness. I didn't know how much longer I could stay still, be obedient and not be tied down. Could I stay in place another moment, letting my ass be beaten to the point of laceration? I could for the love of my lover, I could... I could... I would.

All of a sudden I felt my chin scooped up into her palm and opened my eyes to find the secretary standing in front of me, cradling my head in her left hand. She was holding my head up as if it were a priceless antique, a mystical orb into which she was peering for answers. Her soft hand was gentle, kind, but expectedly firm and in control. In a moment, it was coated with my tears.

"Louder little one, you're a big boy, with a good set of lungs," she chided. She brought her face close to mine and though I couldn't see through my veil of tears, I could feel her breath on my face. I yet enjoyed her sweet fragrance as she blew it to me with her words. She was becoming increasingly aggressive. "Go ahead and cry... Let it all out, Joey."

"Keep your back arched and your ass up! Come on now... Let's hear our little pussy cry," my boss yelled during a mad flurry of swift smacks. My head now thrashed about in the hollow of the secretary's warm wet hand, as my lover continued her relentless onslaught. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The verbose pandemonium resounded through my head and the secretary sang the words.

"Good puppy dog. Come on. Cry for us little puppy... Cry for us... Louder. Louder! Louder!"

I begged them to stop while wailing and crying like an infant at the top of my lungs, without shame. My ass bounced in time with my head, yet my entire body stayed taut and tense. I became a tightly knotted coil of wire, vibrating between these two lovely women. I was providing them with a riotous show, complete with arias they both adored. Not soon enough, my irate lover calmed down a bit and stopped spanking me. She collapsed into her chair and sighed to a long release of air. With a screech of relief I stayed as I was, in the secretary's hand, sobbing uncontrollably. I still begged and pleaded for her to make it all end, to make it all better. I couldn't hear the ladies talking, laughing and belittling me over the sounds of the spanking yet reverberating around in my head like an unforgotten melody you want desperately to forget. The secretary lifted my chin higher and I was forced to follow.

"It's over Joey, the spanking's over," she whispered to me in a snicker, between words with Ms. Handlesmen. "Just relax boy, your spanking is over for now, but the day isn't over yet." Her words never provided me total comfort. My buttocks burned with more fire and pain from recent spankings then ever before, but it seemed to be growing accustomed to them. Never had I been spanked quite so hard, or as often. This morning I walked to work and though I pretended otherwise, it was because I couldn't sit. I only hoped I had the fortitude necessary to be Ms. Handlesmen's personal secretary. That was still my plan, but how much could my flesh endure?

"Joey, come here Joey," Ms. Handlesmen called, her voice calmer. "Come to me Joey, come to me and I will make it all better." Though painful to even move, I forced myself to rise, to take my head from the comfort of the secretary's now puddled hand. I was a blubbering, sniveling, puffy-eyed wreck, but I turned to my lover in a staggering motion and fell on my knees before her. I had to keep my ass from moving, because even the air was now abrasive. Ms. Handlesmen placed her spanking hand before me, palm up.

I couldn't see well, but I could sense the hand was that of my lover, the one she used to spank me. It radiated heat and drew me near, like fire does the frigid camper, or flame the moth. I brought my lips close and kissed it, then kissed it with passion. I could hear the women's voices, talking about me no doubt, but my mind was here with her hand. With lips, mouth, mind and soul, I paid the hand the respect it was due and for the effort it put into my discipline.

"Joey, Joey, Joey," I heard Ms. Handlesmen sing out. Her hand began responding to my mouth's caresses. To me her hands were intimate friends; one my closest friend, the other my lover. While this one brought me discipline, gave me direction and showed me the way to the other, the other provided me with sexual experiences beyond my wildest dreams, with heaven. I worshipped and I loved both; one out of fear, the other out of carnal desire. Never had I loved any part of anyone so much. I've heard it said some males are leg-men, others are breast-men, and still others are into asses... but I was a hand-boy, Ms. Handlesmen's hand-boy, and loved it.

"Come closer Joey, let me see how you look," Ms. Handlesmen said in a relaxing tone, indicative of my importance. Gone was the rancor and frustration from her voice, the Ms. Handlesmen who hired me had returned. Here once again was the calm, collected, warm but heavy-handed woman. "Stand for me Joey... Let me see you in today's uniform." My lover had returned, and I had succeeded at my job.

With knees shaking and weak, I slowly worked my way up, as the ladies conversed in laughter. The secretary rattled on about some other executives who had an interest in me and Ms. Handlesmen thanked her for the information. My lover wanted the secretary to call a trainer and she knew whom she wanted. Standing wasn't easy, burdened with so much pain, but with caution and care I made my way to my feet. I came to stand before my lady, still bent slightly at the waist, trying my best to collect my senses, as if I needed them. Ms. Handlesmen had a cure, as usual.

"Stand up straight boy!" She ordered and I obeyed as best I could. Then, as always, she brought the index finger of her right hand to my balls and traced gently in and over a few wrinkles. Blood surged through my gorging penis and then she looked up at me. She smiled and then looked to her secretary. "Very nice indeed," she complemented the secretary. "You were correct on this one. I like the lace ruffles, they give it a certain je ne sais quoi. I think it should always wear lace." My penis twitched and drooled happily to Ms. Handlesmen's indescribable touch and indecent proposal.

"Come, let's all go to lunch," Ms. Handlesmen said.

Obediently and as if nothing happened, I wobbled like a freshly whipped puppy, following the ladies out of the door. The front of my uniform was drenched from neck to knee in bodily moisture. As usual, this morning I was the talk of the hallway. Conversations centered on my frill-lined buttocks that 'glowed like a bright red light, or the big red nose of a clown'. We stopped in the washroom and I was made to stand facing into a corner as the ladies freshened up. It was an executive washroom that needed a key-card. While waiting for them to finish, Ms. Handlesmen allowed a couple of elderly dames to look me over with their hands, which were quite cruel to say the least.

"What do you think Georgette, Joan? It's quite a find, wouldn't you say," Ms. Handlesmen asked finally coming up on us. Georgette, who was about seventy, had hold of my balls. She had one in each hand and she was fisting them like one would a couple wads of warm clay. She looked me in the eye and I got the strangest feeling she was contemplating theft. Joan, who wasn't any younger, wanted to spank me, but my lover thought it unwise. She claimed she didn't wish to spoil me, and I was due another spanking very soon. The thought of another spanking brought more tears to my still wet eyes and another round of sniffles.

"A very fine discovery. You're a lucky lady, Harriot," Georgette said as she released me and went for the door, smelling her hands and smiling to herself. "Those buttocks would make a nice Christmas tree ornament," she said as an after thought.

"Those cute little balls too, with the ruffles. How adorable," Joan said while moving. "Look out for Betty," she said before they both disappeared out the door.

"I will," my lover said with a smile and a look to the secretary. "Come here, Joey. Let me help you urinate."

During lunch I knelt on the floor beside Ms. Handlesmen while being fed by the secretary. We dined in the executive dining room, which was less crowded and less noisy than the employee dining area. The rest of my day was spent either pressed onto the pointed stool which I hated, though it made me my lover's sculpture, which I loved; or at Ms. Handlesmen's feet, which I loved most of all. I adored serving as this woman's footstool, spittoon or relaxant. I hung on her every word and jumped to her every blink. I existed in a state of perpetual arousal, my entire being groveling under the weight of her super-ego, the constant humiliation, and her manipulative ways. My penis pulsated to her every breath of air and blink of eye. I lived for her, for the close of business and her left hand, but this evening brought an added treat.