sexy legs

 

The following was penned by a recent submissive after a particularly scintillating “boss” roleplay.

I left the lab to meet with Darcy, my chosen mistress. I was a little late, after helping a student with a problem, so I decided to take a cab instead of the F train, thinking it to be quicker; it was not. Some sort of accident on Canal St. brought traffic to a stand still. The cabby, in a thick accent, advised me to walk across the bridge. A check of the map on my phone revealed no subway stations nearby. I didn’t have much time. I ran. I ran in the cold until I was out of breath and kept going. I cursed the length of the Manhattan Bridge, as it seemed endless. I was out of breath, but I’ll be damned straight to Hades if I was going to let traffic, of all things, ruin such an important life event for me. But eventually I arrived at the corner of Jay and York; ironically the exact place the train would have taken me. 

I texted Ms. Darcy, as instructed; I still didn’t know the location of my destination. I got an address and walked to it, taking off the leather jacket I was wearing to vent the heat. I found the address, and texted again. I waited… The message came, telling me which button to buzz. After exiting the elevator I went to the door; it opened before I could knock. 

She was dressed in professional, sexy garb — totally in character. Knee length skirt, beige hose, white blouse, red lips. Dark, gorgeous hair. And those eyes… If she were any other woman I would long to make her mine. But I knew full well that this was not just any woman. This was a creature with special powers, and abilities. A creature that walks among us, but is not one of us — a creature above us. I acknowledge that such amazing people really exist and yet here, somehow, here I was with the opportunity to experience her art. 

I was nervous. The first page of the report I carried said:

Optically Activated DNA Recombinase Engineering Report: Project status and simulation data.

 Very Big and Unethical Pharma Corp of America(TM) 

Prepared for: M. Darcy, Senior Managing Director of Ultra High Technology Research Division  

It was incomplete, and late. It was my fault, and I knew I was going to be in trouble for this. To make things worse I had such a crush on this beautiful imperious woman that I worked for. I was to deliver the document personally to her, but somehow also had to minimize the damage. It wouldn’t be easy: Ms. Darcy was a no nonsense kind of boss.

After a glass of water (for which I was thankful), Ms. Darcy asked me to take a seat. I told her that the report was more difficult than anticipated, and that it was not complete. She chewed me out for having been late with the report. I begged for more time but she informed me that her presentation was tomorrow. Wow, that came down like a hammer: I fucked up way worse than I thought. I begged for my job, but it didn’t work. She said I was fired and handed me my coat. I was desperate, I begged again. She told me to come up with 10 reasons that I be allowed to continue my job. She looked both angry and amused as I stood there before her, only managing to come up with maybe five reasons at the most in my pathetic stammering. She was not impressed. Somewhere I must have said, “I’ll do anything” because I suddenly found myself gagged and being told I was to be “the office bitch boy.” I had no choice but to accept this fate and now, with her power over me firmly established, the next phase was for her to exercise that power. 

She demanded my wallet. I gave it. She gave it an amusing peruse and took the cash for herself. She then lit a golden cigarette that smelled of mysterious herbs, possibly clove. She smoked it close to my face; I relished the smell of it. She put the gold tip between her luscious red lips and took a drag before making little smoke rings. I stared, mesmerized. What an incredible beauty she was! Also, frightening… She made me confess that I had goofed off by playing video games and jerking off to porn when I should have been working. It was humiliating. I totally deserved it, and I knew it.  

Ms. Darcy then made me strip, commenting on my good looks and making a note of my broad shoulders (I must admit this made me happy). But she said it was too bad my cock was so small. Then the ultimate humiliation: she took out a measuring tape and confirmed that I was half a man. This felt strange; here a woman openly confirmed what I already knew. However, no woman had ever made an issue of it before, which was obviously just them being kind. I had expected the SPH to make me very sexually excited—after all, one way to deal with a small cock is to make it part of a fetish. But, instead I actually felt a bit of relief, a sort of acceptance. My Domme had given me brutal honesty, scene or no scene. She acknowledged something no other woman in my life had ever been straight with me about… 

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