---Week 2---
I came to work in a perfect mood the next Monday. It had been one of my best weekends in ages. Bursting D-Rod's hold over me had put me in a euphoric state, and I had partied all night long with some of my girlfriends.
The danger of getting exposed as a business exec sleeping with her intern was gone. The plan had worked perfectly. All of D-Rod's photos were deleted. I had managed to outsmart the arrogant prick before any damage had been done to my reputation. If he ever dared to approach me in an inappropriate way again, I would kick his ass out of the office. Honestly, I almost looked forward to that. It would be my ultimate triumph. The look on his face would be priceless.
I had worked from home on Friday and hadn't heard anything from D-Rod yet. Apparently, he had been busy with his friends and hadn't checked the pics. This week, I was out of town on a business trip so I had to wait to see his reaction anyways.
Over the course of the week, everything went back to normal. Work in the external organization was business as usual. Curiously enough, though, I noticed my project partners treating me more courteous than before. I thought nothing of it and attributed their courtesy to the sunny weather. But that wasn't the reason as I soon found out.
After a few days, I noticed them not only acting friendlier but also paying more attention to me and my outfits. Although I hadn't realized it before, I had started to dress differently for work. Instead of the skirt suits with high-necked blouses, I had only packed form-fitting pencil skirts and cut-out tops to go with my suit jackets. I had also replaced my comfortable low pumps with elegant high heels. All in all, I was showing a bit of skin and accentuating my ass without good cause.
The realization hit me out of nowhere. Whether I liked it or not, D-Rod's treatment had affected me! Although I became well aware of my new clothing style, it didn't prompt me to change it at all. I looked sexy but still classy and far from inappropriate. So there wasn't any harm in it. Most of all, though, I liked the attention. It made me feel special and more feminine and coveted than ever before.
Beyond my fashion style, something else was different. At first, I couldn't really point my finger at it as I simply felt an inner unrest that didn't let me get some peace. But over time, I caught myself thinking about those naughty dares D-Rod had put me through time and again.
Something in my psyche had opened like a door to a dark place, and now, I couldn't close it anymore. After dipping my toes into the naughty, exhibitionistic side of my subconscious, I was hooked on it. Just like a train wreck that you can't help but watch through spread fingers, the curiosity got the better of me. Despite the dangers it brought along, I craved more. My true sexual nature was rearing its head.
The first days, I cursed myself for these ridiculous thoughts and tried to suppress my feelings, but they started overwhelming me. D-Rod had exposed a side of me that I hadn't known before, and the need to explore it grew stronger with each passing day.
After work, I found myself in my hotel room browsing porn sites and watching clips of sluts getting gangbanged and fucked in public places. But it didn't still my hunger. So I began reading stories about sexual humiliation and male domination while picturing myself in these stories. Some of the stuff I read disgusted me but turned me on beyond belief. However, all of it didn't do the trick for me. It only made me hornier instead. Simply said, it wasn't enough. I needed the real thing.
It seemed like I was spending all these days wet and dizzy from lust. Strangely enough, the more stressful and demanding work became, the more I yearned to slip into my submissive role. Forgetting about my true sub nature wasn't working. On the contrary, it was distracting me. So I had to come to terms with it. I had to find out more about me. Why was it so arousing for me to be treated like a whore? Why was it so fulfilling for me to be used like a cheap slut? Why did I enjoy serving scruffy machos and getting humiliated for their amusement? The truth was quite obvious. It turned me on like nothing else.
--- Week 2 -- Thursday ---
On Thursday, I couldn't take it any longer. I needed relief. I needed to live out all those fantasies that filled my head. As I was currently in a strange city, the chance was as good as it gets. I simply had to seize the occasion.
That day, I dressed up in an elegant red cocktail dress that reached down to mid-thigh and allowed a nice view into my cleavage. The bright color and low cut made it look sexy as hell without being too slutty. Pairing the dress with sheer black stockings, a black lace bra and black lace panties, I put on a pair of matching red 5" stiletto heel pumps. I definitely looked dressed to impress.
Taking a cab, I asked the driver to take me to a bar located in a typical working class area. The one he chose definitely wasn't an upscale cub but a down-to-earth, blue collar kind of bar. As I was arriving quite late, some of the guests had a good buzz going on already. Walking in, my red, low cut outfit definitely stood out.
I took a seat on my own in a corner of the bar and ordered a drink. When I had just started sipping that drink, a guy approached me. He looked well built with a cheeky grin and cocksure aura. With his short haircut and stubbly facial hair, he looked quite gruff which was exactly what I was looking for.
He was clearly here to hit on me, and it made my pulse race. We began chatting idly, and it turned out that he was a builder. He wasn't too smart but that didn't matter. I was looking to get fucked, not to have an inspiring conversation.
Normally, I would have never chatted with such a guy at all. But today was different. His confident, cocksure manner was the thing that sealed the deal for me. From our chat, I gathered that he was the type of guy who took what he wanted without asking too many questions. He seemed to see women as notches on his bedpost, and I yearned to become one of those.
The guy quickly had his hand on my knee, stroking my leg. Gosh! I so much wanted him to slide his hand up my skirt! My head was swimming and my pussy throbbing already. Nonetheless, we continued flirting and chatting while he had a few more beers.
A couple of hours later, we were finally sitting in a cab driving to his apartment. I was nervous as hell but even more excited, feeling all slutty and naughty.
Arriving at his apartment, he didn't bother with any niceties, not even offering me a drink. Instead, he started kissing me the moment we walked through the door. When we made it to the bedroom, I had already lost my red cocktail dress and high heels.
He simply pushed me backwards making me fall onto his bed. A second later, he was on top of me, unceremoniously pushing his hard-on into my pussy. The alcohol was taking its effect, though. He barely lasted ten minutes poking around in my cunt before he shot his load, rolled off of me, and went to sleep.
What a bitter disappointment! What a letdown! Not a scrap of my expectations had been fulfilled. My desires hadn't been satisfied one bit. The guy had just been boring. This hadn't been the aggressive, demanding sex I had hoped for. On the contrary, it had been the most pathetic sex in my life and hadn't appealed to my sub nature at all. It hadn't quenched my needs by any means.
---Week 3 - Monday---
Despite this setback, I didn't let the frustration get the better of me. Being rid of D-Rod was a reason to celebrate, and everything else would fall into place. I wouldn't let it get me down. Instead, I continued exploring my fantasies online over the weekend.
The next Monday, I made a point of dressing more conservatively as I expected to meet D-Rod and wanted to emphasize my regained authority. So I wore a grey suit skirt that was knee-high with a fitted pencil style and a grey suit blazer that had a v-shaped neck and high collar with a matching belt. I paired the outfit with black stockings, garter belt and classic black 3" pumps.
I had just started checking my mails when my office door burst open. D-Rod stormed inside and planted himself in front of my desk. It was quite apparent that he suspected me of deleting the pictures. After all, he had had an entire week to figure it out. Surprisingly, though, he didn't seem too infuriated about it.
