Sandra Sexecutive Ass Istant 01

...suddenly i wake up from an intense and terrible nightmare, panting and sweating... i feel like i'm covered in viscous fluids, which makes me both uncomfortable and perplexed...

i see through the windows that it's daytime, but in my foggy and still unclear mind, i have trouble understanding where i am, and why... then i gradually realize that i'm in my Boss's office, lying on the sofa where our clients are usually received...

i'm under a blanket, under which i feel my damp clothes on my skin...

i have trouble gathering my memories, i must admit that i don't remember what happened the night before, apart from drinking and dancing in a disco with my Boss and some colleagues... i only remember that i shared a very good evening with them, chatting in a very relaxed way, almost flirting, and also dancing, although i'm sure i drank too many drinks, way too many...

but in contrast to this pleasant memory, i also curiously feel more or less painful sensations in several places of my flesh, notably my private parts, my breasts, my jaws and my throat... then some reminiscences of my nightmare begin to reach the surface of my consciousness... i perceive, through my mental fog, lustful looks, coarse words, bestial moans and heavy breathing all around me... i begin to feel the ghostly but intense sensations of many mouths, hands and cocks using my whole body... oh... my god...... in all the worst possible ways...

and despite these horrible flashbacks, i still feel the wet remains of a nocturnal orgasm, and i am also surprised by the deep and persistent sensations of several enormous, uncontrollable orgasms, such as those which follow my fountain spurts... i feel them as if i had really endured them during my nightmare in discotheque... my god, how disturbed am i to feel such carnal sensations because of such a porn nightmare... because all this, in its gross orgiastic excesses, can of course only be an insane nightmare... yes?

but as reality sinks in, i know i have urgent matters to attend to... first of all, i need to call my husband to try to get through this as best i can, because we had that stupid argument last night... i hope he won't be too mad at me, and that he'll sincerely accept my deepest apologies for this "corporate" evening...

grabbing my purse from the coffee table right next to me, i pick up my phone still on mute, discovering two horrible realities at the same time...

first of all, it's already 11:33 a.m., and stupidly i'm already feeling guilty for not being home for my usual Saturday chores, like cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking dinner... and beside those caricature-housewife tasks, not to be sleeping, or rather having sex, with my husband in our all too rare "let's take our time" moments...

secondly, and the worst: i have 13 unread text messages and 9 voicemails... it hits me with great anxiety, like big black clouds announcing a huge storm...

i try to get up but i have to sit on the couch for quite a long time, the blanket still on my legs, too dizzy, my head spinning, unable to stand... i am also assailed by my own smell... a smell that is both raw and acrid, an almost animal, wild and sexual smell... and as i look down at the floor, searching for my heels, i realize that my crumpled blouse is half open on my ample chest, my damp and sticky bra only covering it clumsily, as if put on in a hurry... i am surprised by the amount of sweat that i feel like i have shed during my hours of dancing... during my sleep, i must have sweated a lot more and apparently lost quite a bit of milk, so many more or less dried stains remain on my skin...

but suddenly, my gaze stops on a note handwritten on the table, near my bag... i immediately recognize the determined, almost aggressive handwriting of my Boss, and i grab it eagerly before being paralyzed, dizzy and drained of blood at the same time, reading: "Dear little Sandra, I had a great time with you last night, and you really seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, judging by the way you rewarded me. I preferred to give you some time to recover from this very hot night, and I left here a change of clothes and underwear (in your size, I made sure), so that you can go home rested and presentable. See you on Monday, another hard week of work awaits our team."

...these words... the words of my Boss... which almost seem nice, and yet lead to terrible conclusions...

so, this most certainly means that in my drunken state, i had an affair with him last night (hopefully only him), as i shamefully hoped in my secret fantasies... and that he probably fucked me in every possible way, hard and savage, as evidenced by my sore parts... oh my god... what have we done?!?...does this mean that my skin, blouse and bra are soiled with more than just my sweat and milk? did he actually cum on me, spilling his sperm on my breasts and elsewhere on my skin, like my husband and most of my exes?

then, as my nightmare comes back to me in only confused fragments, i notice with amazement and horror that my blouse has almost no buttons left, that my stockings are completely torn, that my super wrinkled skirt is damp, sticky and stained... the skin of my thighs is also covered in half-dried streaks and stains... and between them, when i run my fingers under my skirt, i only find my vulva instead of my thong, also sticky...

i then realize with horror that my nightmare may not really be one after all, and that it is perhaps a partial, distorted and confused memory of the real events of that night... which certainly, let's hope, only involved my Boss and myself, or perhaps, at worst, my colleagues as well... that would be terrible in itself, and the implications would be dreadful to deal with... but i have fantasized so often about being taken by a group of men that i almost resign myself to the idea that, completely drunk and uninhibited, i could have let them enjoy my body... and this thought, which makes me ashamed, also makes me feel almost aroused, to be honest... on the other hand, i hardly dare to hope that i have not actually suffered the assaults of a whole horde of lecherous, muscular and extremely well-hung men, in addition to those of my Boss and my colleagues...

if that is the case, i realize by my ravaged state, my remaining sensations and my blurred orgasmic memories, that my Boss is probably the most special, the most exceptional lover i have ever had... and the more i think about it, the more i feel really guilty to admit that deep down i am almost proud and satisfied with the implications of the mysterious events of this night... finally, while i hardly dared to dream of it, my superb Boss has become my lover! and i realize that this idea upsets me to the point that i feel almost ready to pay the price... whatever it takes...

but my emotion is soon followed by a deep dejection, because i wonder how i could manage this situation with my husband after that... because i still love him, deeply and sincerely...

finally, seeing absolutely no one else on the entire floor, which is quite normal for a Saturday morning, i slowly leave my Boss's office, stumbling as if still drunk, and crying over my fate... looking at myself in the women's toilets mirror, i am seized by a violent sob as i discover my makeup devastated, the skin of my face, neck and chest smeared with big and long light spots, some of which have not yet dried, my hair tangled and sticky, and my eyelashes glued... the fact is that, even if i must admit that i dreamed of a relationship as erotic as romantic with Boss, i now look like a cheap hooker who got run over by a whole rugby team... oh my god... a... team???

struck by this thought and what it implies, another huge sob accompanied by a retch makes me vomit in the sink... i hadn't eaten anything last night... what i vomit looks like a thick and viscous mixture... i don't dare to think too much about what mixed with the alcohol in such large quantities...

after almost another hour spent thinking about all this, crying about my weakness, feeling sorry for my naivety, and cursing myself for my hypocrisy, without having called or texted my husband, i finally decide on a plan...

first, i have to clean myself and put on the change of clothes that my Boss has planned before going home, being almost certain that my husband won't even notice the changes in my outfit...

second, i need to talk and act very cleverly with him... i can't let my husband suspect anything other than a night of work exceptional and necessary until this morning... i could even tell him that i slept at my desk to recover a little before going home, this part not being a lie after all...

thirdly, i really should ask my Boss for explanations... i don't remember what happened, or how, nor with whom... but the more my body's memory almost reaches my mind, the more i have the impression, strangely, of being incredibly and inexorably excited by this affair that is both strange and completely crazy...

...and there, i tell myself that i may have crossed the gates of hell...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

once back home, my whole weekend resembles a real nightmare mixed with phases of intense sexual clashes...

i continue to repeat the false details of my version of this hard night of "corporate" work, and my husband continues to put pressure on me by reproaching me for having spent an entire night and a Saturday morning at the office, "even for work", while alternating these reproaches with clearly suspicious insinuations that i could have cheated on him with another man... my god, what irony, if he knew what i fear...

so my man and i spend all our time between angry looks, silent disdain, loud arguments and even louder screams during "retaliatory" sex, where he makes sure that i keep my promises to offer myself to his vengeful desire, by all means and orifices necessary...

unable to reveal to him that i am still sore everywhere he wants to grope and penetrate me, i try to endure his assaults with the same enthusiasm and energy as usual, despite the more extreme sensations he inflicts to me... in particular when he takes my throat deeply while milking my breasts intensely, while i am tied to the dining table, lying on my back and my head blocked against his thighs... or when he sodomizes me ferociously, violently slapping my buttocks raised up in the air, while i am handcuffed behind my back, my face and breasts crushed on the bedroom floor... but i have to keep my promises, and he makes me cum like crazy despite the feeling of unease that i feel... because paradoxically and for a long time, i feel all the freer that i am forced to give up all control, including over myself... and the more i am fucked like a slave, the more i feel free from my tensions...

when i leave the house, this Monday morning, while he is still sound asleep, i feel relieved on the one hand, and on the other hand extremely anxious at the idea of my return to the office, and my first interview with my Boss...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

arriving at the office, nervously waiting for my first opportunity to speak to my Boss and hoping not to run into my colleagues from Friday in the meantime, i try to clarify certain points about myself, and to know why i feel so torn between unease and... hopes...

well, i am an office worker who loves her job... i am married to a man i love despite his faults (and mines), and i theoretically have everything to be happy... but already at forty, i admit that i am afraid of getting old, even if i know that many men find my curvy Italian physique sexy, especially with my big chest and my fleshy buttocks, rather remarkable on my small frame...

my Boss is a handsome man in his fifties... he is married, but that does not stop him from flirting with me... it has been going on for weeks now, and i must admit that i appreciate it, because it is reassuring to still feel desirable at forty... but recently, things have become a little more serious...

first, he started to systematically congratulate me when he found me dressed in a more "attractive" way at work, because he thinks that it helps to give a better "image" of his company to clients and, in one way or another, to "gratify" our colleagues, all of whom are men apart from the other female assistants... and strangely, finding it both disturbing and flattering, i became very sensitive to his appreciations...

and then there was that meeting, where i felt so humiliated by my milk and cyprine flows... with his big warm hand on my thigh, touching me in front of my colleagues and our clients... and me blushing without protesting, while they all devoured, with their lustful looks, my big half-revealed breasts and my legs only sheathed in stockings, visible under the glass top of the meeting table...

and finally, last Friday evening, there was that mysterious and incredible night in his company, of which alas i lost almost all coherent memory from a moment on, followed by a terribly extreme nightmare, which may have partly come true, and whose intense after-effects are still etched in my flesh...

and this Monday morning, here i am again in an outfit that i would never have dared to wear to work, at least not until now, but which is now part of the wardrobe that i tried to put together to be both more "attractive" and "corporate", in my Boss' opinion...

i remember one of my attempts to please him, weeks ago... my skirt was black, quite short, showing off my legs... it was tight at the hips, and when i sat down, it shaped my buttocks even more and pressed my thighs together, making my behind look even rounder than usual... but my Boss, not even seeming to be aware of my efforts to please him and follow his instructions despite my discomfort, had just found it "rather nice"... i felt so offended that i blushed to my ears, and he laughed at my disappointed face, adding that he knew i could do better next time...

so, because i wanted to prove to him that i can indeed do better to please him, i started dressing more and more to his taste, while trying to hide it from my husband...

from so today, convinced that i should "push my advantage" if i really want to continue this affair that began so strangely and i don't know exactly how with my Boss, i'm wearing another one of my tight black skirts, but this time i've turned the waistband back on itself to shorten it as high as possible without looking like a street whore, that is to say, to the limit of the bands of my dim-up stockings... of course, i customized it like that after i left our apartment, so that my husband wouldn't see me going out like that, especially after our argument this weekend and his suspicions...

with this shortened skirt i'm wearing a black satin blouse, with long sleeves and a neckline that i made more plunging by undoing the last button at the top... it shows off my neckline a little too well, and it's very tight... i almost feel like i shouldn't breathe in too hard if i don't want the buttons on my blouse to pop off... at least my little jacket hides the shapes of the satin, where my nipples give it relief despite my lace bra... but the air conditioning being out of order today, i start to sweat under this jacket...

my thoughts about myself and my wardrobe are suddenly interrupted when i hear my Boss calling me loudly to join him... the moment of truth has arrived...

as i enter his office, i try to look at him without lowering my head, saying timidly "Hello, Boss...", but he doesn't answer me and just looks at me, his eyes roaming my entire body... i don't dare speak anymore, and i just wait for his orders... finally, he speaks up and says to me "You look great today. But it's too hot to keep your jacket on, take it off."...not even a "please", as always with him... and as always with him precisely, while turning all red, i obey and take off my jacket, my movements stretching my satin blouse even more on my ample and heavy chest...

he walks around me and i feel his eyes licking my body... then he stops in front of me and says to me: "I find you splendid today. Your blouse shows your magnificent cleavage and part of your bra, it's rather sexy."...i blush even more at this comment, realizing that the lace of my bra is indeed partly visible, but i still don't dare to speak... and of course, i can't help but think that he abundantly stained one of my other bras with his semen, just two days ago...

my Boss continues: "I like the way you look in this outfit. I love the way it accentuates your curves, how it hugs your body, and how your arousal shows through the tight fabric on your breasts."...he then reaches out and traces his fingers in a curve down the left strap of my bra to my erect nipple, sending shivers down my spine, funny sensations in my stomach, and a flow of cyprine between my thighs... "You may be tiny, but i really like your figure, and i'm glad you're finally wearing an outfit that really shows it off."

he then leans over me and whispers in my ear, "I'm going to enjoy seeing you in this outfit all day long, and from now on I want you to always be dressed like this. No, actually, I want you to be dressed even sexier than that."...i feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness as i listen to his words... the way he talks about my body makes me feel desirable and wanted... but as a married woman, i feel ashamed of it...

his words and tone make me feel like he wants me right now, and the thought excites me in a horrible and shameful way...as he continues to speak, i can feel my body betraying me and responding to his words...my heart beats faster, and i feel my nipples harden against my bra, and against my will...

i feel a sense of helplessness and submission when he speaks to me in this way... and yet, i can't help but feel aroused by it... he then adds: "I want you to do something for me. Take off your thong and give it to me. After all, as you know, you have already shown me one of your thongs, and so I have already had the pleasure of seeing the perfection of your plump and appetizing ass."

my eyes widen in surprise and i feel a mixture of embarrassment and excitement... initially i wanted to tell him about Friday night, but he surprised me with his approach, and i can't believe he just said it like that, here in the office... but as i stare at him as if hypnotized, his eyes become even more intense and impressive, and i can't deny the desire they contain and also instill in me... i start to pant, my heart is beating too fast, i am unable to protest or say anything... i realize that i feel wet all over... sweat on my skin... saliva in my mouth... tears budding in my eyes... and worst of all, my cyprine flowing down my slit slightly covered by my black lace thong...

i don't know what to do... i am frozen in place, unable to move or speak... my mind is racing with a million thoughts and emotions, but my body is paralyzed by the intensity of the moment... "Come here", he says in a deep, authoritative voice...

i can't resist the urge to obey... i walk slowly toward him, with unsteady hands... as i get closer, i feel his eyes devouring my body, and burning my soul... and he orders me in a tone of pure dominance: "Give me your thong, little Sandra."

i don't know what's gotten into me, but i'm starting to obey him, here in his office, on my work hours... with some difficulty, i slowly pull my tight skirt up over my wide hips, where it holds, then i grab the sides of my thong and slowly slide it down my legs... as it falls to the floor, still around my ankles and high heels like the remains of obscene bonds, i feel a sense of vulnerability and exposure that is both terrifying and exhilarating, and suddenly the strange thought of consensual slavery creeps into my mind...

"Good girl", he says as i stand there, in my half-open shirt showing the top of my bra, my skirt pulled up tight around my hips and my wet thong around my ankles... "Now let's see what you're wearing under that blouse."...still unable to answer, i do my best with my small, trembling hands to unbutton the remaining buttons of my blouse...